


If I ever leave this war alive

by AbbyHolmes



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: It's 1944, Jimmy and Thomas haven't seen each other for 18 years, Jimmy has matured a lot, Jimmy is a soldier at war against the Germans, M/M, Some hurt/comfort possible later, They are going to be OOC but what shall I do, Thomas is still Butler at Downton, letterfic, mentions of depression and suicide, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-05-27 10:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 72,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyHolmes/pseuds/AbbyHolmes
Summary: 1944. Britain and its allies are at war with Germany.Thomas Barrow, still a butler at Downton Abbey, is having an ordinary day until he receives a letter with a handwriting he hasn't seen in nearly twenty years.It's Jimmy Kent who wrote him from the trenches in France, willing to pick their friendship up again. As much as Thomas fights it, he immediately finds himself falling back in love with the former footman who seems to have finally grown up.This is going to be a letter-fic that will mainly consist of the letters Thomas and Jimmy send each other. Jimmy's first letter is received by Thomas in 1944, just a couple of weeks after D-Day. Later on I might switch to a third person narrator every now and then.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Downton Abbey Fanfiction.  
> During my billionth rewatch of the show I just caught myself getting furious at the fact that everybody but Thomas is getting a proper happy ending. I still feel like the story of him and Jimmy could have been told differently and I wanted to write something about those two, I just didn't know what.  
> During a recent holiday on Jersey (the channel island), I visited the Jersey War tunnelns (highly recommendable, they are very interesting) and cought myself thinking if Jimmy would have volunteered during WWII. And so the plotting in my head began.  
> I hope Thomas and Jimmy will not be too OOC in this fic, but please keep in mind they are a lot older than they were when the show ended.  
> This fic starts 18 years after the end of the last season so Jimmy will be about 42 years old while I imagine Thomas to be 49.  
> I'm trying to keep this halfway historically correct but since I am German I don't know a lot about the movements of british troops after the D-Day invasion so I just make this up as I go with the help of google ;)
> 
> The text that is crossed out within their letters is supposed to have been crossed out by the character writing the letter. The character receiving it will not be able to read those crossed out words ;)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this and am very open for feedback.

**Dear Thomas** ,

I'm not sure wether you still remember me and my messy handwriting. I stopped writing you a while ago and I'm sorry for that but life got in the way and to be honest I didn't really know if you wanted to hear from me any longer as soon as you stopped replying to my letters.

 

It's me, your old firend Jimmy Kent. I guess you must be surprised about this letter from me and frankly, I'm surprised too. You know that I'm usually not much of a writer but that seems to have changed lately.  
I hope you still work at Downton and the letter finds you, because I feel like you're the only person who might understand what I have to say ~~and I always wanted to make contact again so I thought I might as well do it now before I get shot and it’s too late~~. 

As you might already have guessed by the stamp on the envelope, I'm writing you from the trenches in France where I have been trying not to get shot by a bloody Kraut for several days now. After what they did to London during the blitz, I felt like it was my duty to fight the Germans and after a long time being stationed in britain here I am now. Covered in dirt and the blood of fellow comrades who's names have been forgotten long before their corpses even grew cold.  


Can you imagine me feeling obliged to do anything? I bet you can't. But I no longer am the caprisious, stupid young man I was when I left Downton. Not only did I grow old, I like to imagine I grew a little more mature through the years.  


I decided for a life as a musician as soon as I left my life as a servant finally behind and I must say I lived a good life. I never got rich and I never good famous but I had all I needed and more until the blitz came and killed all other members of the band I played with. My best friends.  


I should have died with them that night but I was late - as ususal - for our gig at the pub where we used to play once a week. When I finally got there, the pub no longer existet. I searched the ruins for hours until I found the bodies of my three best friends and understood that I was now alone in this world.

I never settled down for several reasons and I don't have any family. My friends were all I had so when duty called for men young enough to fight - I joined the armed forces.

I thought killing Germans was going to be easy. I thought I was tough enough. I though war was like one of the games I liked to play. I was wrong. I’m still not sure how I managed to survive the landing at the normandy. Half of the people on my boat were killed before we even reached the shore. I guess I just was incredibly lucky. I wonder how long that kind of luck will stay with me.

You of all people are the person I have been thinking about mostly ever since I've first been shot at. I never really forgot about you, ~~there’s rarely ever been a day when I didn’t think of you ever since the day I left~~ but most of the time when the Downton past crosses my mind, it leaves me smiling and I just go on. It’s different now that all I have is my past. I'm sorry we lost contact over the years Thomas, I really am. You always were a good and loyal friend to me even though I know I was an idiot at least half of the time. Until this day I regret those times I treated you like shit. I never really apologized for it so here I go, even if it’s way to late for this: I'm sorry. You deserved better but I was young and stupid and scared for no reason.

 

So why am I so suddenly remembering you? Maybe because I wish I could go back to being the careless young man I was when I last saw you. Maybe because you are the only person I know who served during WWI and might still be alive. ~~Maybe because the fear of death gives people courage.~~ At least I hope so. I mean I really have no idea how old you must be now Thomas. I guess you are about ten years older than me so in comparison to Mr. Carson you always seemed young to me. Anyway, I hope you are alive and well and I hope you finally got to be the butler. If anyone rightfully deserved to follow Carsons footsteps, it was you.   


So how is life at Downton? Are the Crowley’s still incredibly rich and is the household still running? Did Lady Edith finally find someone to marry? Is Lady Marry still turning the men's heads? And are Anna and Bates still disgustingly happy? I would love to hear all about it because funny enough, I really miss Downton. 

I never thought I'd ever feel that way, but I do. I do miss you lot and the tasks and the boredom and even the family. I miss places and people away of this misery that is war.

Thomas, during your time in the field, did you ever feel like you couldn't go on? Like those screams and all the dirt and the fear would eat you alive and swallow you? Did you ever feel like you were going to drown? Because I do. And I cannot tell any of the lads here with me because once one of us admits being afraid I know we'd all fall to pieces. I know I am asking a lot and if I never hear from you, be sure I understand. But if you can, please write me and let me know how you got through this. You're the only friend I got left out there. At least if you still consider us to be friends.

I hope you are fine and your hand guarantees that you will have to stay out of this messy war. You're not missing out on anything here, trust me.

Kind regards,

**Jimmy**

P.S.: If you should answer me but never get any reply from me it's not because I'm being impolite. I might already be dead. Sorry for the inconvenience then.  
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________   


**Dear James** ,

I feel like I no longer really have the right to call you Jimmy, or do I? Of course I still consider us friends. I’m happy to hear from you, though your letter’s tone worries me. Are you alright, James? Because frankly, you don’t sound like yourself. I know war does that to people but I hope you’re not planning on doing anything stupid.  


It feels like a lifetime has passed since I last saw you. I have to admit that I was very surprised to receive your letter. I never thought I would ever hear from you again ~~, even if I always hoped I would~~. But rest assured, I am very happy that you wrote me and Miss Baxter sends her kind regards as well. She caught me reading the letter and as nosy as always, she could not keep her mouth shut ~~when she saw me smiling like the idiot I am~~.

 

I am very sorry to hear about your loss. Losing friends is always bitter and I know no words could ever provide any comfort. I still have to admit that I wished you had written me before joining the military. I would have advised you not to volunteer. I once made the same mistake and there is rarely a day when I do not regret it. You asked about my war experiences. They were exactly what you are describing now. I guess wars never really differ. The trenches always look the same, no matter where they are. And the screams all sound the same, no matter who shouts them. When I was a soIdier, I felt like drowning every second of the day and fear did in fact eat me up with every minute that passed. You now I'm not the bravest man, so it cannot be much of a surprise to you that I might not be the shining example you hoped for.   


You write that you don’t know if you can go on. I know war can make you think the darkest of thoughts but believe me if I say it does get better. Try to think about the day when you return home and all the horrors are behind you. You have to believe that you can make it out of there. As you now I am clearly not a man of faith but I pray you come home alive and well. I know far too well that one can find the thought of ending his own life seductive, but I also know that there is always another, a better way. You are never really alone in this world. I bet your fellow comrades feel the same. 

 

You can always write me. I promise I will always be there to listen and provide as much comfort as I possibly can.

When I was in the field, the letters Sarah O'Brien used to send me always cheered me up. She is a devil of a woman but she knew how to gossip and make me smile so I will provide you with as much Downton gossip as you could possibly bear.

Carson and Mrs. Hughes have retired nearly fifteen years ago and Daisy went away to make something of her life as she put it. We haven’t heard of her since. Anna and Bates are still disgustingly happy with their three children and their own hotel in rippon. Anna and I have tea every now and then and I try not to roll my eyes to much about her annoying smile. Mrs. Pepmore left us three years ago. Her knees were too weak to carry her weight all day long at the kitchen and she retired. Mr. Molesley unfortunately died two years ago, much to Miss Baxter‘s regret. I think the two were in love but never managed to tell each other about it. I am the butler of Downton now and Miss Baxter is the ladies‘ chambermaid. We are trying to find footmen, but nowadays nobody wants to be a servant anymore so apart from Baxter and me there is nobody but a gardener, two maids who do not live with us and a cook. On bigger occasions, we get some men from the village to help us out during the dinner but their manners are usually so bad I can barely keep myself from turning into Carson and fire them on the spot. I’m so desperate to find qualified servants, I would even accept an idiot like Alfred. Or a way to free spirit like the one you’ve once been. Of course Downton’s glorious days are over and I bet Mr. Carson would be turning in his grave if he knew. He died in his sleep a couple of years ago.

Upstairs, a lot has changed. Master George has just returned from Oxford and is now slowly taking over the heritage from Lady Mary and her husband. He has grown into a fine young man and already assured me that I can stay and work at Downton as long as I wish. I fear that he thinks about volunteering for the war. Lady Mary, her husband and I are trying to talk him out of it but I do not have a lot of hope that we will be succesfull. Branson and Sybille are currently living at Downton too. Branson seems to hope that Lady Mary will have a good influence on Lady Sibylle’s wild young spirit, but I do not really believe that she will succeed. His lordship and Lady Cora are still living with the family, but his lodship’s health is starting to fail, I think. Lady Edith is living in London with her husband, her daughter and their two sons. Lady Rose is happily married as well and I heard that her husband joined the military so if you should ever cross paths with a man named Atticus Aldrige, that might be him. The countess died only a few years after you left and to be honest, I kind of miss her. She was a force of sarcasm, that women.

I think those are the most important things you missed since you left fifteen years ago. I would love to write you more about my rather boring servant-life, but I have to get back to it and choose a wine for dinner.

Just one more thing, before I have to finish this: Take care of yourself, James. Do not try to be brave and do not do anything stupid. You can pull through this, I am sure. I know you might feel alone in this world, but you are not.  
  
Feel free to always write me if you feel the need to talk.  
Oh and to answear your question: I’m not fifty yet, but not far from it either.

Kind regards,

Thomas

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence of Jimmy and Thomas starts to become a frequent thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I already wrote their first five letters I thought I might as well update this today. I hope you like it :)

**Dear Thomas** ,

for gods sake, stop calling me James. It never sounded right coming out of your mouth. I always were Jimmy to you and I wish for it to stay that way. Otherwise, you’ll only make me feel even more old.

You cannot imagine how glad I am to hear that you are Downton’s Butler. I’m happy you finally got what you always wanted. You deserve it. Please return Miss Baxter’s greetings. It’s sad she and Molesley, that old fool, never got together. They suited each other, don’t you think?

You sound as if you were friendly with her and Anna now, am I right? You seem to have changed, old friend. But I guess that’s what we do, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear that you have friends. I know how important friends are when you don’t have a family.

Please don’t worry about me. I didn’t want my letter to sound so dark. You know me, I’m a cheerful spirit. I’m just having a few dark days and since I never really knew despair before, it caught me on the wrong foot.

I must admit I never thought war affected you as much as it affects me now. You always seemed so tough. And please, never ever call yourself ‚not brave‘ again. I have not forgotten the day you saved me from a beating. If that wasn’t brave I don’t know what is.

But let me ask you a question: Should I be worried about you? You sound as if you know all to well the darkness I was writing about. Please tell me you never attempted to take your life. I could not imagine a Downton without you and I bet no one else could.

Thank you for all the news and gossip. They really cheered me up. Fascinating that all the children are so grown up already. I remember you carrying the young George around as if it had been yesterday. Please tell me what’s going on at Downton at the moment? Are Mary and his lordship still fighting every day? Did Branson finally marry a socialist suffragette from the slums of London? And what about you? How are you? Are you happy? Have you found what you have been looking for in live?

Thank you for you kind words. I know I do not deserve a friend like you, but I will gladly accept your friendship. As long as I have it, I promise I will no longer feel alone in this world another day in my life.  
  
I have to close this now. We’re moving out and I want to get this posted before returning to the trenches. Whish me luck so I might return from them.

Kind regards,  
**Jimmy**  
  
P.S.: As soon as I get back from this shithole, we got to have a smoke together. I might even help out at a Downton Dinner as your footman just for the sake of the olden days.

 

* * *

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I solemly swear I will never call you James again. I cannot imagine you looking a day older than eighteen years ago. ~~I bet you’re still the handsome devil you were 18 years ago.~~

Thank you for your kind words about me being the butler. You don’t know what they mean to me. I think you’re right about Molesley and Baxter. They were a perfect match but they never understood it. I never liked Molesley, but it’s still a pitty. But I guess happiness is nothing but luck and the two unfortunately never got lucky. Baxter’s still sad about his passing. I can see it in her eyes. But she is holding up great. At least when she thinks that no one is looking. Maybe I should take her for a trip to the coast some time soon when the house is a bit calmer. That always seems to cheer her up a bit.

You’re right, I am friendly with Baxter and Anna now. Getting older, I finally understood that friends are better than enemies and they have proven themselves good friends over the years. ~~I wouldn’t still be alive if it wasn’t for them.~~ I still don’t like Bates, though. But we never see each other so that’s just fine.

Are you sure you are alright? Admitting sadness is not a weakness, Jimmy. You have every right to feel miserable and if it helps you to write about it, please do not censor yourself.

I think war affects everyone more or less the same. As long as you’re not a monster, it will scare you and make you desperate. That’s what mankind invited wars for. You might think me brave and I thank you for that but during the war, I was a coward. I’m going to tell you a secret I haven’t told many people before. I got my hand shot on purpose because I wanted to go home so desperately. I was so scared of dying I had to find a way to escape. And I do not feel ashamed of my cowardance back then because it might have saved my life. I’m not a man of heroism and I hope you are not offended by me saying that I hope you neither are. Try to stay alive if you can, Jimmy. Even if the price you have to pay might be seen as cowardance.

There is no need to be worried about me. My darkest days are far behind me.

But you asked for gossip so here goes: Branson never married again. He had his affairs here and there but he never really fell for anyone again. I guess nobody could match up with Sybille Grantham. She was the kindest, cleverest women I ever met and I guess Branson can never love anyone the way he loved her.

But onwards to something less depressing: Yes, Lady Mary and his lordship still fight over pretty much everything. Day in and day out. It was just today that I heard them argue about opening the library up to the villagers once a month. Lady Mary wants to cheer up the women waiting for their men to come home with a bit of reading and tea but the old lord fears the house might get as ‚invaded‘ as he put it as during the last war when the house had been turned into a rehabilitation home. Her ladyship just rolled her eyes at him and I am sure her and lady Mary will convince him sooner or later. If they fail, I’m sure Lady Merton – the former Mrs. Crawley - will when she visits Downton with her husband next weekend. She might be old as a stone but she is still the stubborn overly righteous lady she has always been.

You asked about me. I am fine. I do enjoy my work and I allow myself a trip to London every once in a while when the family is not in need of my services. ~~I try not to feel lonely but I never succeed.~~

I did not find what I have been looking for in life but then again, a man like me cannot really do that, can he? ~~At least not if he always falls for men who don’t fall for him.  
~~ But what about you, Jimmy? If you’re just half the charming bastard I remember you, you must have dozens of admirers waiting for you at home.

Please do not thank me for my friendship. It is not neccessary.

I hope you returned safely and are reading my letter somewhere inside a warm, safe room as far away from gunfire as possible.

I have to get to bed now. It’s getting late and since I am old now, I need a lot of sleep.  
  
Kind regards,  
**Thomas**  
  
P.S: We have to. Just tell me once you know when you’ll return to England and I make sure we reserve a room for you to stay at. I’m sure the family would love seeing you. ~~And I would, too.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone leaving kudos! <3


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Jimmy needs help curing his insomnia, Thomas remembers the days of Jimmy playing the piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while I am writing chaper 8 I thought I might as well upload chapter 3 already :)  
> I hope you enjoy reading and thank you all for reading and leaving kudos and / or a comment <3

**Chapter Three**  
  
**Dear Thomas** ,

your letter brightened up my shitty day. We keep losing men every day and everytime we try to move an inch forward, it ends in slaughter. The Germans seem to have more than twice the men and arms we have and frankly, I do not believe we stand any chance in winning this bloody war. It’s frustrating. I don’t want those evil bastards to ever get to England. So I get up and fight every day but I am so, so, so tired. I barely ever sleep and when I do, there are nightmares of grenades and explosions. My only pleasures are cigarettes and your letters. ~~Every time I receive an envelope with your handwriting on it, I cannot help myself but smile and rip it open as fast as I can.~~ The other lads believe I am receiving those from a hot girlfriend because I won’t let them see them and I carry them around in my Jacket everywhere I go. ~~I even reread your letters before going to sleep sometimes.~~ I let the other guys believe it so I can tease them with how hot my imaginary girlfriend is. We have competitions about who has the hottest girlfriend and currently, I am leading because I told them she is a dancer at a club in London. I just couldn’t resist. But to be honest, there is no girl in London nor anywhere else. There really is no ~~girl~~ one. I’ve had my fun going out with ~~people~~ girls and fool around but I never fell for any of them. I never found my Sybil, I guess. I kind of envy Branson. He lost his wife, but at least he got a taste of love before she died.

I don’t sound like myself, do I? I feel like the war finally grew me up. I never felt the wish to settle down but when I think about getting home now, it makes me sad. I don’t have a home any longer. Everything I had is gone, nearly everyone I knew is dead. I do no longer have my band and therefore I don’t have a job to return to. I will have to get back to barkeeping I guess. I used to do that after I got thrown out of Downton, remember?   
But even though I am sure I will land on my feet and find a way to earn money after the war, there is nobody waiting for me. Young me would have loved that. The thought of freedom and adventure. My present me fears the loneliness lying ahead of me. But it comforts me that I still have you, my friend. Visiting you at Downton will feel like coming back to some kind of home and I am looking forward to it, though I doubt the family will allow me in the house after the way I had to leave.

I can totally understand what you did during the war. It has nothing to do with cowardance, it is survival instinct. I cannot guarantee I have it in me though. You know me, I am reckless and as boring as I got with age, that did not change. So if you ever hear about me dying a heroic death, please raise your glass and feel no anger with me. It is not in my nature to run from danger. I’m not clever enough for that. Thank you for sharing your secret with me though. It means a lot to me.

The way you write that your darkest days are behind you let me assume there have been very dark ones? I am very sorry to hear there were but I am glad you fled the darkness. Please give my thanks to the people who helped you get away from it. Had I been less of a coward and more of a good friend, I might have even been one of them.  
Please, Thomas, if you should ever feel the darkness circling you again, know that you can always, always turn to me.

I love imagining Mary and the old lord quarreling day in day out. How does her husband take it? Is he her lapdog?

I’m sad to hear that you never found what you whished for. You would deserve happiness. I am sure every man on earth can find it. Even where one is not supposed to look.   
Maybe one day you will. I believe it is possible. In fact, I know it. Two of my friends and band-colleagues were both the way you are and oh they loved each other deeply. ~~I learned a lot from them.~~ And I believe they were so very happy together until the day they died.

Unfortunately, I’m writing this from the trenches and I am on watch-duty tonight so I have to get going.

Thank you for being there.  
  
Warm regards,  
**Jimmy**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I'm surprised your last letter did not get censored. The english press is trying to make us believe that the war is going to be won by us and the allies soon. Your letter paints a completely different picture. I believe you, but I hope you are wrong. I don't even want to imagine what shithole those Nazi pigs would turn our country into. I admire your courage to fight them every day. ~~But I wish you were a coward so I could know that you are safe from harm.~~

If you have trouble sleeping, try to look at the stars. I used to count them to fall asleep. Or try to get your hands on some french lavender and brew tea with it. It will make you fall asleep easily. Since it has a calming effect on the nerves as well it might even help you with the nightmares. I know they can be troubling. I still wake up to those images of blood and dirt every now and then, but always remember they are just dreams. The world is more than they let you believe.

I'm curious how long your lie about the hot dancer girlfriend in London will hold up. They will ask you for a picture soon enough, won't they? I'd send you one of me but I think I might not be the beautiful woman they are expecting. Anyway, tell them your girlfriend enjoys reading your letters since her days at Downton - pardon, the London club - are a lot less boring since she gets to read them after work. She carries your letters around with her in the pocket of her jacket so she can read them again during her cigarette breaks and think of you. I bet if she were actually existing, she would greatly miss you and worry day in day out about your whereabouts and your well being. ~~Just like I do.~~ And I'm sure there will be a woman living up to your expectations one day. Maybe you haven't found the right one yet. Maybe you will find her once you get home.

Don't worry, you still sound very much like yourself. I guess your days of mischief aren't fully over yet. You might have matured but as long as you're still fooling around with your comrades, you are the young Jimmy to me. 

I guess it's just the way life goes. The older you get the more you worry about loneliness. It happens to all of us. 

Funny enough, I told the Crawleys I heard from you just yesterday and they all had a good laugh about the night you were caught sleeping with Lady Anstruther. Times have changed. Lord Grantham said you would always be welcome to visit. He is still a great supporter of our  troops and the moment he heard you volunteered, I think he forgave you. Maybe he has even forgotten about the incident. He seems to be forgetting all kinds of things the older he gets. So please be sure your old room awaits you if you ever wish to visit Downton. We would all love to see you. 

Please try not to get yourself killed. I don't know how I should tell your imaginary girlfriend about your death without making her fall apart. 

Let us not talk about the darkness in my past. I believe I shook it off the day it tried to drown me. It was Baxter who saved me and from that day on I knew I had a friend in her.

You were never a coward Jimmy and I always considered you a friend. I was the one who stopped replying to your letters. If anyone is to be blamed, it is me.

Thank you for your kindness. I promise I will tell you if I ever lose my faith in life again.

Ah, Lady Mary and her husband. Well, he is rather the opposite of a lapdog. He is very strong opinionated I'd say and just as stubborn as her. They argue and fight regularly but he knows when to back off. He never engages in her little fights with lord Grantham, he just shares an annoyed eyeroll with lady Crawley and hides his laughter behind a paper or a book or one of his fancy cars. Master George likes to say his parents are like two big fish in a too tiny bowl but he always says it with a wink. 

He, by the way, is anything but a lapdog either. He reminds me a lot of young Branson and he even told me he is thinking about joining the labor party. I advised him not to tell his lordship. It might give him a heart attack otherwise.

Thank you for sharing the story about your friends with me. I'd like to say it gives me hope but I have given up searching for someone years ago. As you know all to well, I always fall for the wrong people.  ~~After you, I never made that mistake again.~~ I've always been a bit of a lone wolf so maybe it's just not meant to be.

How are you? Are you finally making some progress or are you still stuck at the same trenches? 

Please tell me about your life as a musician. Was it as exciting as I imagine? I bet you played the piano, right? I remember you were a pretty good player. 

When I look at the dusty old piano at the servants room, I can picture you sitting at it. Smiling your cheeky smile at Ivy, trying to provoke Alfred, that idiot, and hitting the right keys effortless without even looking. I can nearly hear ~~you hum along with the melody, your eyes sparkling with joy~~ Mrs. Hughes ordering us to stop fooling around and get back to work. I'd like to see and hear you play again one day.

I'm taking Baxter to the cinema tonight, so I better hurry now.

Take care!

Kindest regards,

**Thomas**  



	4. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy and Thomas write drunk letters and admit things they usually wouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone actually reading this? :D

** Chapter Four **

**Dear Thomas** ,

you are as contradicted as I remember you. You keep telling me that I will find love and then you say you've given up searching years ago. Why did you? I know you've suffered bad luck in the past but just because some foolish men were too stupid to see you for the great man that you are doesn't mean you cannot be loved. ~~I think you should be.~~

Good to know my girlfriend enjoys my letters. I think about her during my cigarette-breaks as well and I keep her letters with me at all times. ~~„Her“ letters mean a lot to me, you know? More than „she“ can imagine.~~ But since she’s not what she’s supposed to be you are right. It might become tough to make the lads believe she is real. You don’t happen to have any pictures of pretty girls lying around, do you? I mean I got a reputation at stake here. The guys believe me to be something of a legend around the London girls. I might have exaggerated a bit when I told them I once had three girlfriends at the same time when I never really had even one longer than a night.    
  
I'd like to have a picture of you, though. Please send me one if possible. Not for the lads of course – at least as long as you don’t have any desire to dress up and help me out with holding up my lie – but I'd like to know what the man I'm pouring my heart out to looks like today. ~~I want to know if I remember you and your mischieveous smile correctly when I thik of you.~~ I'd send you one of me too but unfortunately I'm still stuck at the trenches - yes the very same - and cannot go to see a photographer anytime soon to get a picture for my „girlfriend at home“ shot.

I have to admit I'm a little drunk because I followed your advice and tried the lavender tea. Unfortunately, you forgot to tell me how disgusting it tastes, so I had to pour a little rum into it to get it down. A little got more and now I’m not really able to read what I’m writing. ~~Did I already tell you that I kind of miss you? I mean not just lately, but in general? I just…I don’t know.~~ I have to go to bed and finish this tomorrow I guess.

I just picked this letter up that I started two days ago and spend the last hour thinking about throwing it away and starting over. I guess I should be embarrassed about my blunt drunk self. But then again, in vino veritas, right? And you’ve seen my younger drunken self already. So I decided I'll leave it like this and continue writing where I left off. And I still want that picture!

I was on watch-duty the last two days and didn't find the time to get back to this earlier. To be honest, I'm lucky I still am able to write this. We got attacked by some Germans spotting the area and we barely managed to fight them off. 

We had to leave their corpses back in the woods. I'm sure I will not find a lot of sleep tonight, even though I'm very tired. I guess not even lavender tea with rum might help me to rest this time.

So please, please tell me more about your Downton-Boredom I envy you so much for.

Believe me, I am trying pretty hard not to get killed. I'd hate to reduce my imaginary girlfriend to tears. But please, if I fall, take good care of her. ~~And promise me to take good care of you, Thomas, please.~~

It's true that you were the one who stopped replying to my letters just a couple of months after I left. May I ask why you stopped? I know they weren't exactly poetry but you were the one asking me to write in the first place.

Did I do something wrong? Back then I thought you maybe just moved on and forgot about me. ~~It hurt, to be honest. I wanted to keep writing, but I~~

Oh god I'd love to see the old lord's face upon hearing that his grandson wants to join the labour party. So young George is a bit of a rebel then? That explains why he likes you so much. I bet ge gets along very well with his cousin Sybille, doesn't he?

I know I already drunk-replied to the part of your letter about you giving up searching for someone but I just want to make clear that I meant what I wrote up there. You never were a lone wolf by your choosing but because you felt like an outcast. But I got hope that after the war, things may start changing for the better. ~~Maybe one day people might accept love for what it is.~~

I am tired and sick of the trenches but all in all, I am fine. Still stuck at the same position and I have absolutely no hopes that will change anytime soon. We might even be forced to fall back. I hope the other troops are luckier than us. I hope we’ll at least make it to the ally-camp anytime soon. I’d kill for a night of sleep in a real bed and some uncanned food. 

You're very right, I used to play the piano. Earning money with making music was the best job I ever had. It was fun and of course it made it way easier for me to attract women. It gave me the opportunity for plenty of sleep and free time during the day and the evenings were always a buzz of alcohol, pub-food and melodies. It was good. But as much as I loved them, those times are over now and I don't think they'll ever come back. 

I promise I will play for you as much as you like when we see each other again. Maybe I can even teach you something so that poor old piano no longer rots in the servants room without a purpose.

Oh, Ivy and Alfred. Glorious times. And poor old Mrs. Hughes always trying to keep us in check before Carson could catch us. I do kind of miss them all. Apart from Alfred. I still hate him. He was an annoying prick and that night you… ~~kissed me he was the one who made me feel like I had to be disgusted when I never really were.~~ I just never forgave him for the way he reacted. But then again, I never forgave myself for acting the way I acted. ~~I was clueless and I was too young to know better and I’m really, really sorry. Every day since that night, I am.~~

What movie did you and Baxter see? Maybe once this is over we could go see a movie together. Something that's about anything but war, preferably. If you'd like to. With Baxter, if you want. You can choose the movie of course.

I could go on for hours but I should at least try to get some sleep.

Kindest regards,

**Jimmy**

 

* * *

 

  
**Dear Jimmy** ,

I thought it might only be fair to answer you being drunk as well so I drank a couple of glasses of leftover wine from the dinner – Carson would say I stole it - before I sat down to write this.  


First of all: What is it always with you and fancy sayings like "in vino veritas"? I had to look it up. I always assumed you were better educated than me but where does that latin always come from? You are full of surprises Jimmy Kent.

Your last letter was full of questions I would prefer not to answer but the wine helps me to at least try. In vino veritas, as your intellectual mind would put it.

Why I stopped replying to your letters ages ago? The answer is difficult but simple. They hurt too much and I had to let go. After you left, I was in a very dark place. At that time, you had been my only friend at Downton. ~~As long as you still were around I could fool myself into thinking that I didn’t mind that you did not return my feelings for you. When you were gone, that was a different story because it felt like I lost you.~~ Of course you know that's not all you were to me. As illegitimate as my feelings for you have always been, it still hurt a lot to see you go and to understand I might never see you again. Reading your cheerful letters from London nearly destroyed me. All of it made me try to change who I am. But that will never be possible and at the time, that frustration made it impossible for me to stay in contact with you. ~~I wanted to be like other men so I would stop loving you, but neither of those things worked.~~ So I forced myself to stop replying and leave the past in the past. I hate myself for that cowardance but at the time it seemed like the only way to me. I assumed you wouldn't care much anyway. I'm sorry, Jimmy. I was weak and neglected our friendship. But I never ever forgot about you. I couldn’t ever do that, even if I wanted. ~~And now that I read your letters it feels like yesterday that I had to let you go and it hurts again but I’d rather take the hurt forever than stopping to write you ever again.~~  
 

I don’t know what to say about your thought on men just not seeing what ‚great man‘ I am. ~~A stupid spark of hope lights up inside my heart upon reading this and I hate myself for it because I know that you do not mean it the way I wish you would. Because if you did, I’d tell the authorities I were five years younger than I am and get myself enlisted to get over to your trenches and protect you with my meaningless life.~~ I’m not drunk enough for any adequate reply to this. So I’ll just say ‚thank you‘ and leave it at that.

 

I’ll send you two pictures along with this letter. One of them is a picture of me I had taken ~~at the photographer this morning~~ at the funfair last summer. I know I look terribly old. I feel like I’m starting to look a bit like Carson. Maybe those wrinkles on the forehead come with being a butler. It’s a bit unfair though that you get to see terribly old me but I don’t get to see you. ~~I would love to know how you look today. I’m sure you’re still dashingly handsome.~~ But I bet you still look young and fresh and it’d just be depressing and make me feel old to see your flawless face.

 

The other picture shows young Lady Rose. I found it inside a book at the library a couple of months ago and forgot to give it to his lordship. Someone must’ve used it as a bookmark. I doubt anyone at your corps will know her so you might as well try to sell her as your girlfriend. She is blond, young and dashing in that picture so everyone will envy you for sure.

  
I don’t know if it will be possible for me to comfort your imaginary girlfriend should you fall because frankly, ~~it would most likely kill me.~~ I will be busy comforting myself. I’m not sure how I would stand losing you again. I can’t believe I wrote that. The wine really is a devil. I will have to force myself to post this letter before I get sober again.

  
You asked for Downton-Gossip, so here I go: Sybil wants to marry the young german emigrant whom she fell for at university but Branson thinks it’s to early since the two only met a few weeks ago. Today they had a huge fight about it, with all of the family weighting in on Branson’s side but then the boy showed up and told Sybil he got enlisted and has to leave in a few days. Needless to say the poor girl spent the rest of her day in her room, crying. George, who usually suceeds in talking some sense into her, tried to make her come down for dinner but she wouldn’t even open the door. I’ve got some kind of a feeling I will have to organise a rash wedding within the next couple of days. I don’t know how I shall manage to even get the ingredients for a cake these days but I’ll find a way. It’s the kind of magic I’m getting paid for after all. Maybe this is a good time to ask his lordship for the salary-raise I wanted to demand for ages.

  
I try not to picture you reading this at your same old trench but sitting on the clean sheets of a camp bed. Please tell me you finally made it there.

I dusted the old piano today and sat down to try if it still works. It does. You said you could teach me to play it. I’d like that. It would give me something to do in the evenings ~~and allow me to think of.~~

I sometimes wonder what became of Ivy. She went to America, you know? Alfred became a highly regarded chef but I’m sure you knew that. I thought you had made your peace with him? You have nothing to not forgive yourself. I’m still ashamed I forced myself on you that night. I’m sorry, Jimmy. I never wanted to scare you.

I don’t really remember what movie we saw. Something with Cary Grant. I fell asleep halfway through, but Baxter said she enjoyed it. Of course we can go see a movie if you visit. I’m really looking forward to seeing you, preferably in one piece, you hear me?

I hope you are well.  
  
~~Love~~  
Kind regards,  
**Thomas**


	5. Chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy and Thomas exchange thoughts about Downton-Weddings and things in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter :)  
> Please don't get used to it, normally I am the slowest writer in the universe. It's just like this story demands to be told :D
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and special thanks to everyone who left a comment <3

** Chapter Five **

**Dear Thomas** ,

first things first, so you do not worry about me while reading this: I made it out of those damned trenches. We are at a camp that the Americans just recently conquered from the Germans and I will have to stay here for a couple of days. I sprained my ankle on the way here and as long as I can’t get my swollen foot back into my boot, I’m stuck here. I try to act as if I’m angry about it but frankly, I’m kind of happy about the little break. So yes, I did read your letter sitting on the clean sheets of a camp bed and afterwards, I fell asleep with a smile and slept the first full six hours in weeks. Today I even had some hot water for breakfast that actually resembled real tea. I never thought I’d ever cherish driking earl grey that much but it felt like home in a cup. So as long as my ankle looks like a lemon I won’t have much else to do other than lying around and staring at the ceiling so I for once have plenty of time to reply to your letter. And what a letter that was!

I do not remember ever seeing you drunk but from the way you write after some glasses of wine I think I would like drunk Thomas. Though he doesn’t seem as courageous to me as I would have imagined him to be. I noticed how much you crossed out, you know? I don’t know why you felt the need to censor yourself but I’ve got to admit I am curious what you wanted to tell me before you decided not to. I even held the letter against my lamp to see if I can decipher all those erased words but it didn’t work. ~~But I know what you wrote at the end of your letter before you stroke it through and I wish you hadn’t.~~

So, in vino veritas has some thruth to it, right? I only know the saying because some of the lads in my garrison come from money and education and I heard them saying it. Don’t worry, I’m still pretty uneducated apart from having learned how to write properly. My band colleagues forced me to, you know? They thought it was emberassing if I answeared performance-requests with letters full of bad grammar and spelling mistakes and forced me to take some lessons with a London teacher. She hated me, but trained me well I believe. But I’m rambling. See, that’s what happens if I got too much time on my hands.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am for the way you must have felt when I left Downton. I never wanted to hurt you but I know I’m still the one to be blamed. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to get involved with Anstruther, I wouldn’t have been thrown out of the house, leaving you behind. Because that’s what it felt like to you, right? Like I was leaving you behind. I mean I’m not going to lie. I would have left Downton anyway sooner or later but I wasn’t planning of doing it as rash as I did. And although I know that you did not believe me the day I left, I did not like parting ways with you. Back then, I wasn’t very sure of myself – even if I always acted as if I were – I didn’t know the things I know today so I was insensitive and the way I said goodbye…I feel ashamed of it today. I have been replaying our last conversation in my head over and over and believe me when I say I did see the hurt in your eyes that day. I just didn’t know what to do about it so I just went away and hoped you’d be okay. I’m sorry you tried to change yourself after I left because I believe you where ~~perfect~~ alright the way you were. I always thought you were confident with being the way you were but…did I shake that confidence? If I did, I’m sorry for that as well.

I’m still sad you stopped writing me back then because to be honest, that was when I felt left behind. I never forgot about you either but I was too scared to try and contact you again for years. I needed a bloody war to at least try and write you again.

Thomas, I was an idiot. You have nothing to apologize for. You did not force yourself on me. You just read the signs and came to a conclusion I did not expect at the time. I led you on Thomas, I was being flirty and cheeky and I cannot blame you for thinking what you thought it meant. I know I was furious and horribly towards you that night but I was scared. I didn’t know a thing about things like that. If Alfred hadn’t entered, I’m sure I would have ~~come back to my senses again soon and maybe things could have been different~~ calmed down faster. I’m disgusted with my younger self for trying to get you thrown out of Downton back then. I had no right and I was a horrible person. I still don’t know why you chose to forgive me, but I’m thankful you did.

~~You noticed I called myself an idiot not seeing you for the great man you are, haven’t you?~~ Well I am not drunk at the moment so I’ll just tell you to stop thanking me for compliments.

Thank you for sending the pictures. The one of Lady Rose was a complete success. The other lads envy me a lot now and nobody noticed how old the picture actually is. Thank you for saving my reputation. They do believe me to be the greatest Ladies Man walking the earth now.

I’m looking at the photography of you as I write this. You might have grown older but you are still as goodlooking as I remember you. The glasses suit you. I’ll carry the picture around with me just like the letters and I’ll write on the back of the picture your adress and my wish for you to be notified should anything happen to me. I hope you are okay with that.

I spend the last day convincing a military photographer I met on the way here to take my picture. I suceeded, telling him I needed it for my girlfriend (he was impressed by young Rose as well, so that helped) but it cost me a whole pack of cigarettes. I will post you the photo along with your letter so you know I do no longer look „young and fresh“ but tired and worn out.

Of course I can not promise you that nothing will happen to me. You’ve been to war, you know very well nobody ever knows if they’ll get out of it alive. But I’ll try to come back in one piece. That I can promise.   
If I shouldn’t, I organised for someone sending you another letter of me with stuff I wanted to tell you when we meet again. But I’m a cat always falling to his feet so don’t worry. We can burn that letter together once the war is over and have a good laugh about me being melodramatic writing it in the first place.

Thank you for the Downton Gossip. When you receive this letter, the wedding might already be over, I guess. I hope everything went well? Or did any classical Downton scandals take place? What’s the name of young Sybil’s new husband? If I should cross paths with him I’ll try to keep an eye on him. Maybe that helps calming the lady down.

I hope I will be able to teach you some piano but don’t expect wonders. Maybe we’ll just start with the chopsticks and see if you have any talent to learn more. I mean you’re already good at Cricket so how high are the chances you’re also good with music?

This has been an awfully long letter. Probably the longest one I ever wrote. I hope you didn’t fall asleep in the middle of it, old man.

I don’t know how fast I will be able to write you again. As soon as I can get back into my boots, I’m moving out further into the country and since most of that is still enemy territory, receiving and sending field post might be a little more difficult.

Yours  
**Jimmy**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I thought about writing „I hope your ankle is better“ but since you will have to get back into battle as soon as it is, I hope ist still swollen and hurting with every step you take. But I guess you’re alright and out there again, fighting those evil Krauts the minute I am writing these words. When you get back, I’ll make you some proper Earl Grey and not that hot water they’re giving you guys.

I wasn’t crossing anything interesting out, I just corrected mistakes in my writing. Why would I censor myself? Or do you censor your letters? You crossed some sentences out in all of your last letters.

We need to stop apologizing to each other for things that happened way back in the past. I am no longer who I was back then and you no longer are who you were. We’ve both moved on and it’s good that you wrote me and we are in contact again. Let’s just put the past behind us and look forward to the future. We won’t make the same mistakes again.

I’m fine with being noted if something happens to you. But nothing will happen to you. I am sure.

Thank you for the photography. It’s nice to have a picture of the person you’re writing. You lied, you still look handsome and not a lot older than I remember you. Aging suits you.

Well, the wedding. It was chaos. First of all, our cook nearly had a meltdown over all the cooking he had to do without any kitchen maids so believe it or not, Baxter and I had to help him out. That worked surprisingly well – I only burned my hands on three spots and it’s healing nicely – but then again, there was not a lot of great cooking possible with the rations we had. We managed to prepare a cake though and the family was very pleased with the food. Since everyone is busy growing potatoes, it was impossible to get somebody to deliver flowers. So Sybil just went out herself to pick some roses from the garden. That led to the gardener having a meltdown over losing the roses he was planning on presenting at the upcoming Downton gardening exhibition. He was so furious he actually quit. I am still searching for a new gardener but every man under sixty in this village seems to be at war. I already see myself also handling the gardening if I don’t find anyone for the task anytime soon. The men we hired to help out as footmen were all old, slow and had bad manners but since the family’s standarts are way below those of Carson these days, nobody complained about it. Sybil and her husband had a huge fight the morning of the wedding because she was trying to convince him to run off with her while he was determined to get to the battlefield as fast as possible. His name is Felix Reichstein by the way (I told Sybil you will keep an eye on him should you meet and she sends her thanks).  George stepped in as the voice of reason and just an hour late, the wedding could begin. The ceremony went without another disruption and soon enough, Sybil Branson became Sybil Reichstein. His lordship fell asleep during the dinner (he seems to be getting worse. I’m worried he won’t see the next christmas approach) and Edith and Mary got into her usual fight (this time it was about Marigold already working for the paper instead of trying to find a suitable husband what Mary finds unbearable) and Lady Rose broke into tears because she hasn’t heard of her husband for a whole month. You don’t happen to know anything about his whereabouts, do you? Could you maybe ask around? Apart from all those little dramas, the wedding went well and afterwards, I succeeded in convincing Lord Grantham to raise my salary enough for me to finally be able to buy the cottage at the village I have been wanting for years. I think I will rent it until it’s time for me to retire just like Mrs. Pepmore and Mrs. Hughes did.

I hope you are well.  
Did you make any progress? I know you’re not allowed to tell me where exactly you are but I hope it’s not some nasty trenches again.

Master George finally got himself enlisted as well. The candles I have to light on Sundays after church for all of you to return home safely are getting more and more. Needless to say Lady Mary is in a horrible mood and takes it out on everyone. I am too. I can’t stand the thought of any of you being killed by one of those nazi-monsters.

Please let me know you are okay as soon as you get this.

Yours  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,  
  
it’s been more than a week since I posted my letter and I cannot keep myself from being worried any longer. Please let me know you are alright. A quick note is all I need to stop myself from panicking.

Yours  
**Thomas**


	6. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy is caught up inside the war and Thomas feels useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter six. From now on, the story might become slightly darker but I hope you'll like it ;)

** Chapter Six **

**Dear Thomas** ,

I’m sorry, things got nasty here and I was on duty every wake minute. I am fine, please do not worry. I haven’t met any of the Downton-Fellas yet but I’ll let you know if I do.  
  
I have to close now but I’ll answer your last letter appropriately as soon as I can.

Yours  
**Jimmy**

* * *

 

 **Dear Thomas** ,

this time I really cannot tell you from where I am writing this letter but I can tell you it’s not the most comfortable place. The last two weeks have been very unpleasant, but I can assure you I am alive and healthy. Though I have to admit that I would kill for lavender tea with rum at the moment because I haven’t really slept any good in days.

Whenever I cannot sleep, I get up and look at the moon. It may be stupid but it cheers me up the moon looks just the same from anywhere in the world. It cheers me up to know I see the same thing as you would if you were looking at the moon.  
It’s stupid, isn’t it? Must be the sleep deprivation talking, sorry.

I asked around for Atticus Aldridge, George Crawley and Felix Reichstein but I didn’t get lucky. Nobody around here has heard anything about Aldridge unfortunately but most people here are from London so that doesn’t mean a thing. I’m a low-ranked normal soldier so I do not have the power to help finding him but I will keep my eyes open. Maybe Lord Grantham has better luck?

I have to say your last letter sounded different. You seemed distanced. Did I do something wrong? I did not mean to offend you by talking about the crossed out words.

It’s nice to see that the list of things we need to do together if I ever leave this war alive is getting longer and longer. Up until now we will: Have a smoke together, drink tea, go to the cinema and play the piano. Sounds good to me. It’s thinking about that what keeps me upright, really.

Good to hear the wedding went well – apart from all the chaos, of course. Did you manage to find a new gardener in the meantime?

I would love to write more but I have to get going again. I don’t have anything nice to tell anyway. This war is just a black hole full of shit and I’m stuck inside it.

I hope you are well and hear from the other Downton-Boys soon.

Yours  
**Jimmy**  
  
~~PS:~~

* * *

 

 **Dear Jimmy** ,

I cannot tell you how relieved I was when i received your letters. And I’ve got some other good news as well: Atticus Aldridge turned out to have been taken to a hospital because of a bullet-wound but he is alive and well and will be sent home soon. Master George and Sybil’s husband ended up in the same garisson and are writing tot he family constantly so I think they are as fine as anyone can be at war.

I’m just looking out of the window, admiring that glowing full moon, asking myself whether you might be staring at it as well right now. The thought really has something comforting to it. I find myself losing sleep lately too. And lavender tea does no longer do the trick.

Maybe my last letter was a bit distanced. I am sorry for that. I was just very tired from the wedding and not in a very good mood I guess.

We will do all these things together soon, I am sure. The news say that the allied troops are making progress every day and Churchill seems optimistic.

I haven’t found a gardener yet but then again there are more important things in time like these, aren’t there? Even the family has other things to worry about, now that three family members are in the field.

I’m starting to ask myself how stupid all of my problems must sound to you. Who am I to complain about anything sitting in my comfortable bed inside a warm room, being safe and clean and not hungry or in pain? It feels bloody wrong to go on living my life while you are crawling through the dirt, risking your life. I thought about trying to volunteer but I am too old and my hand might get me discharged anyway. So I just go on living my usual life, feeling fucking useless and helpless and yes, I do worry about you. More than I should. There, I said it. And I am not going to cross is out. Within the last weeks when I thought something might have happened to you I thought I was going to lose my mind. It’s stupid how much I care about you after not having seen you for eighteen long years but your letters…they mean a great deal to me. The thought of seeing you again means a great deal. Maybe too much of a deal. But I cannot keep myself from feeling this way, Jimmy, and I am tired of trying. Please forgive me if that sounds odd. I hope I am not scaring you away again. Believe me if I say our friendship means the world to me and I am not willing to risk it again.

Please try to keep your head up. You’ve made it this far, now you are going to survive the rest of it.

Stay safe.

Yours  
**Thomas**


	7. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy is unusually gloomy and Thomas worries that he might scare him away after all.

** Chapter Seven **

**Dear Thomas** ,

please don't waste any second thinking about volunteering for this bloody war. You already served your country at the last one. You've done enough. I couldn't stand the thought of you on the battlefield without feeling sick with worry. Not because I don't think you're capable of fighting, but because I want to know you're safe. I already lost everyone I had, Thomas, and now that we renewed our friendship I cannot lose you. So please, please stay were you are and stop feeling guilty. Downton needs you. I need you. My letters might mean something to you but to me, your letters mean the world. They give me something to look forward to in all this misery and darkness. They keep me sane. They let me believe in a better tomorrow where we can have a laugh about the olden days and watch that bloody moon together. Your problems do not sound stupid to me. My servant times might long be over but I remember how stressful life at Downton can be and how boring at the same time. I know that your duties are an important part of your life and I feel nothing than respect for that. I like reading about your everyday life because it reminds me that somewhere out there is a normalcy that we are fighting to protect with this war. Not that all of it was equally worth being protected, but you know what I mean.

I have to admit I'm flattered that you worry about me so much. It's nice knowing someone cares what happens to me. And it's nice to know that someone is you.

You do not sound odd at all. You sound like the Thomas I know. Like the man always trying to seem like he doesn't care when he cares a lot. The thought of seeing you again means a great deal to me too. More than I think you'll ever know.

I mean...I don't really know how to put it into words. I didn't just write you because I wanted to talk someone who has been at war. I wrote you because I wanted to write you for ages. War just gave me the courage. I cannot really explain myself but I promise I will once we see each other. Just know that I am glad you are there. I really am. And whatever you want to tell me, please feel free to do so. I am no longer a boy who's easily scared away. Life has turned me into someone else.

It' good to hear that the Downton guys are okay. I hope Rose's husband hasn't been injured too badly but badly enough not to get send back here. 

I cannot see the moon today. It's too foggy. So I just got back up to write this so I can post it tomorrow before we get moving again. I won't sleep a wink anyway and I feel like I need to write you before tomorrow.

Of course I can't tell you what I will head into tomorrow, but I can tell you that I am scared. When I try to close my eyes, I start shaking with fear. I don't know what awaits me at the end of the breaking new day but a part of me fears it might be death.

I guess I sound like a coward when I should be brave but I'm done being brave. I had to watch too many good men die within the last few weeks to just soldier on. 

The lads I always spend my evenings after battle with, the ones who always had my back during the fights, the ones I held the 'who has the hottest girlfriend' contest with - most of them are dead. Only hallf of the people with whom I got here are still alive.

Why have I been that lucky until today while others weren't? Some of them had families that will now lack husbands and fathers. It doesn't seem fair to me. But then again, what about war is ever fair? What about death? Do you remember how I was always rambling that I wanted life to be an adventure back in the Downton days? I wish I could slap my younger self in his bloody arrogant face and tell him to shut up and cherish what he has.

I'm sorry. I must sound very gloomy today. This bloody war is starting to get under my skin. When the fighting's not frightening me to the core, the boredom nearly kills me. I miss my damn piano and all the dying around me has me thinking about the death of my friends and I just...it feels like a whole new level of aloneness.

You don't happen to know any story that might cheer me up a bit, do you? I'm desperate for a laugh. And you always knew how to make me laugh.

What happened to your plans of going to the coast with Baxter? I hear the weather in england is nice at the moment. You might as well give it a go while that lasts.

I cannot wait to hear from you.

Yours 

**Jimmy**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I promise I will never think about volunteering again. You have been heard.

I never thought you could ever sound so gloomy, but I understand you. I wish I could provide any comfort to you but all I can tell you is to try to hold on. This bloody war will be over one day and you will be one of the heroes surviving it. You deserve it, Jimmy. You have to survive. You might not have a wife or children to leave behind but you've got me now  and your piano and all the things in life you still wish to do. You have reasons to keep going. Keep that in mind when fear starts to get the better of you. And don’t be so hard on your younger self. He was right. There are still plenty of adventures out there for you to live thru. All oft hem better than this bloody war.

I hope - no, to be honest I even pray - you made it through the day you have been scared of so much. But I believe you did. As you once said, you are like a cat that always lands on his feet.

I believe you don't know what you are saying, Jimmy. How would you know how much I care if I am not even able to write it down? Because if I would, I'm sure I would succeed in scaring you away, no matter how much you've changed and no matter how much my stupid letters might help you getting through the days. 

I didn't really change, Jimmy. I might no longer be as devious as I were in my younger years, but I am still me. Mr. Carson would still call me foul. And people like Alfred would still be disgusted by me. And I fear that you will still be afraid of me. I know you always were. Even when we were friends, you always tried to keep a distance, scared I could ever misread you again. I know that was my fault. I just don't want to make that same mistake again. Therefore please forgive me if sometimes I sound vague or distanced or hesistant. I'm just trying to be the friend you need.

I know something that might cheer you up. I found a new gardener and you won't believe who he is. It's Daisy's son. Yes, that bloody kitchenmaid Daisy. Apparently she and Andy - who had been your successor at Downton and kind of a friend of mine - married and took over Mr. Mason's Farm. Their son is just fifteen years old but eager to "do something" as Daisy wrote me. Imagine bloody Daisy writing me a letter! Anyway, she wrote that the boy wants to go to war for which he fortunately is too young and to keep his mind off this she wanted to send him to Downton to be our new gardener. She said she read about the open position in the paper (of course she did, I assigned the advert myself) and immediately wanted to send their son Daniel because he is, as she put it "great with plants". Since I was desperate to find anyone to take care of that damned garden before I have to take care of it myself, I allowed her to send him over. To cut a long story short: He actually is bloody good with plants and Downton has a new gardener. Unfortunately, the boy is unbearably annoying. Everytime I walk past him, he comes running, shouting "Mr. Barrow!" with the most annoying sheepish voice, asking me stuff like "do you know which shape his lordship prefers for the rose bushes?". Of course I don't. I don't give a damn about those bushes. So every time I have to invent an answer and every time he just does whatever he is told. I'm actually thinking about telling him to cut the hedges in the shape of a teacup. Baxter tries to keep me from doing it, but if he keeps asking idiotic questions I won't be able to stop myself.

Unfortunately, the rest of the current Downton news isn't very cheerful. His lordship is sick with the flu and everybody's worried he might not recover. Lady Mary is still a nightmare because she is worried sick about George and everybody seems tense. The family isn't even going to London this year because they are too afraid of bombings. Unfortunately that means Baxter and I won't get a chance to see the sea this summer. 

Maybe we should put that on our list as well: Going to the sea next summer. When did you last see a beach without soldiers? I guess it would be nice sitting in the sun, just listening to the waves, don't you think? The next time you catch yourself staring at the moon, try to close your eyes and imagine it was the sun and you were sitting on a beach and enjoying yourself. 

 

Yours

**Thomas**


	8. Chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys keep making plans for better times after the war. If they ever come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick information for context: Field post usually took between two to three days to be delivered so up at this point, Jimmy and Thomas have already been writing each other for a couple of weeks.

** Chapter eight **

**Dear Thomas** ,

the cat landed on his feet again, or in other words: I am still alive. 

The good news is we are finally making steady progress but the bad news is that means combat day in and day out and I'm starting to feel pretty worn out. I don't seem to have any remaining muscle that does not ache and I stopped counting my minor scratches and bruises. Once I get home I might as well look like someone dragged me through a bloody hedge. Maybe even through one in the shape of a teacup. 

I wish I could talk to you. I mean really, actually talk to you in person and look you in the eyes. Because I want to tell you so many things I feel I can not put on paper. You will not scare me away, Thomas Barrow. I am sure. And I stand my ground, no matter what you say. You already are the friend I need. You're more than that. So please stop doubting yourself or questioning me. 

Maybe men like Carson would still call you foul and maybe men like Alfred would still be disgusted with you but I doubt it. The world has changed, Thomas. And I will never be afraid of you again. You're right, I was behaving awkward around you back in the Downton days but your conclusion about the reasons couldn't be more wrong.  
I will explain when I get to Downton. I promise. 

I actually burst into laughter imagining you dealing with Daisy's boy. I can nearly picture you rolling your eyes at him constantly. He really doesn't seem to be very bright from what you're writing about him but then again he doesn't have to be as a gardener. Don't be too hard on him, Thomas. I know I asked a lot of stupid questions when I first arrived at Downton but you weren't so hard on me. Although I think you should really make your teacup-idea come true. I'd love to see the family's faces upon discovering their garden looks like Alice's wonderland. 

Speaking of Alice: Do you have any books lying around that you could possibly lend me? I already borrowed every single book of the men around me and I'd really need something new to read to pass the little freetime I have. Or you have to start writing longer letters. I'd enjoy that even more.

I hope lord Grantham will be fine. I always sort of liked him. He is stubborn and well, just the way lords are, but on the other hand, he always seemed very fair to me.

I would love going to the beach with you. When I was a little boy, I always wanted to be a sailor. Part of me still wanted to be one when I got older. But then my father died and I had to get some work and my mother wanted me to choose a career as a servant and after that, it seemed to late to take my chance at sea. But I still love the sea and beaches. They make me feel as if everything is possible because they look so infinite. To me, the sea seems like a whole universe.

  
The next time I stare at that moon we share, I will close my eyes and think of ~~you~~ us at the beach, reading or sleeping or watching other people minding their beach-activities.

 

Thank you for always giving me something to look forward to. I mean it.

 

Yours  
**Jimmy**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

  
just try to make sure you’re not using up all of your seven cat-lifes at once. If it is any comfort to you: I only do my boring job and my body still aches in the evening. I blame it on my age. I’ll be an old man in no time and maybe it will take me ages to climb upstairs and I will get replaced by one of those young fools who think a servant’s life is easy and comfortable.

  
Try not to get yourself bruised up too badly though. You want your imaginary girlfriend to recognise your pretty face when you get shipped back home, don’t you?

  
I wish you were here so I could make sense of all those things you wrote. It was always easy to read your face but deciphering your letters is not half as easy. But I believe you to keep your promise to explain everything once you get back home. And I will try not to bite my tongue – or in this case hold my pen – any longer.  
  
Well I have to admit I tried to make my teacup-plan come tue – much to Baxter’s dissapointment – but Daisy’s boy is not as stupid as I thought. He burst into laughter when I asked him to cut the hedge into teacups and called me „a really funny man, Mr. Barrow“. Now that’s something I have never been called before and so I just stared at him like an idiot, not knowing what to say and he just chuckled something abour „mum was right about you“ and trottered away to water the grass. I guess I have to admit that kid easily outsmarted me. I feel a little humiliated but Baxter laughed when I told her and since she rarely ever does that since Molesley died, it was worth it.

  
Unfortunately now the garden is being taken care of, the kitchen becomes a mess. Our cook fell ill with the flu as well and Baxter and me had to get the cook from the village’s pub to help us out because we could never manage cooking anything more fancy than scrambled eggs and toast. He is a pretty grumpy bastard, that cook and I’m pretty sure he hates me and he forced us to pay him better than our actual cook, but I have to admit his food is nearly as good as Mrs. Patmore’s used to be. Do you remember her victoria sponge cake? His is even better. I never had better sponge cake in my entire life. Maybe I can get him to leave us the recipe but I bet he will want to have money for that too, that greedy asshole.

  
Along with this letter, I send you two new books which I hope you will like. One of them is „The picture of Dorian Grey“ because that one seems to suit you and the other one is „Moby Dick“. I thought you might like it since you expressed so much love for the sea. I bet you would have been a good sailor, having another girl in every harbor, spending your days sleeping on the deck whenever you could. Although it’s sad you never got to follow your childhood-dream, I’m kind of glad you never became a sailor. Otherwise, we would never have met.

  
Lord Grantham is fine again. He recovered faster than any of us would have though and I think his wife will never let him leave the house without a scarf again. She was worried sick about losing him. It is actually kind of touching. I never thought their marriage would survive forever but now I’m sure I was wrong about that.

 

Soon, you and me will sit on the beach and I will buy us some ice-cream and we can take off our shoes and dig them into the sand and get sunburned and and watch people and seagulls and the sea until the sun sets and we nearly freeze to death. It’s going to be great.

 

Have I already thanked you for starting to write me? I don’t think so, so here I go: Thank you Jimmy. I never knew how much I missed you before you did but it’s good to know it now. It’s nice having you in my life again, even if you’re far away, fighting nasty Krauts.

  
Stay safe.

  
Yours  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

  
just a quick note to tell you I won’t be able to write you for a couple of days. Please don‘t worry about me. I’ve got at least 6 of my cat-lifes left. Though it could be possible that I return with only 5.

  
Yours truly  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit I will most likely not be able to keep up the one update a day timetable much longer. I have very stressful week at the office ahead of me and I fear I won't feel much like writing the next evenings. But I'll try not to make the wait to long. I got five more finished chapters in store at least and I'll try writing another one tonight :)


	9. Chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy feels like he's being swallowed up by the war. Thomas tried to provide some comfort from afar.

** Chapter nine **

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

  
please don’t get yourself killed.

  
Yours  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

 

I didn’t. But it feels like nearly everyone else did.  
I need some time. I will write you again later. I just can’t find any words at the moment.

  
**Jimmy**

* * *

 

  
**Dear Jimmy** ,

  
I’m so sorry. If you want to talk about what happened, I am here.

  
Yours  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

  
**Dear Thomas** ,

 

war happened. I have no words to describe it. We got lured into an ambush and lost many good men. My best comrades. I don’t know how to go on any longer. I really don’t. I mean we are pushing forward and the Germans seem to slowly fall back to retreat but at what cost? If we keep losing men at this rate there might not be a lot of young men left in England once this war is over. It seems as if an entire generation is being slaughtered. I saw men die not even half my age. I’m no longer very sure I will survive this myself.

I’m sorry Thomas, I am trying but maybe our days full of beaches and teadrinking and playing the piano might never come. And in all this misery it’s that what tortures me the most. I got my hopes of seeing you again so far up it breaks my heart to think that all I’ll ever see of you for the rest of my miserable life is that photography I’m staring at right now.  I wish I had found the courage to write you before I joined this fucking war. I wish I hadn’t always been such a coward. I wish I had the courage to write you know what I wrote in my goodbye letter but the way things are looking now you will get to read that one soon enough. Sorry alive-Jimmy is not very courageous. He is an idiot.

  
I don’t know what else to write now. There are no more words inside me today. Please forgive me.

  
Love  
**Jimmy**

  
PS: Thank you for the books. I’m very grateful.

* * *

  
**Dear Jimmy** ,

I thought for hours about what I should reply to your last letter. I am lost for words because I can feel the pain in every single one of your sentences and I wish I knew how to provide any comfort but I very well know I can’t. I wish I could be with you and help you. If I had the chance I swam across the bloody ocean and search every trench in France to find you. But you are so many miles away and I know whatever I say, I cannot make this war any less horrible.

But you can. You have to believe in your own strenght, Jimmy. You thought you could not go on before, but you did. When you started writing me, you sounded devastated but you kept fighting nevertheless. I know you feel like this war is eating you up alive but you’re too strong to let it swallow you.

You volunteered to fight for what you believe in. To help defeating the evil that has come over europe. To avoid the Krauts from ever conquering that island we call home. To avenge your friends. And I know you still believe in that cause.

You have to try to keep going, Jimmy, please. Not only for you, but also for me. I need to see you. I need to hear what you have to say. I don’t ever want to see your bloody goodbye-letter. I want to watch you when you tell me whatever you feel you need to. I think of the day we will see each other every wake minute of my day and I stopped caring if that is reasonable weeks ago.

I believe in you, Jimmy Kent. If you ever stop believing in yourself, please remember that some stupid Butler at the english countryside is thinking about you. With all of his stupid broken old heart.

If you need someone to listen, I am here. But I understand if you don’t have any words for all the nightmares you have been through.

Whatever happens, I am your friend. And I believe you will survive.

You have to.  
For the both of us.

~~Yours~~ Love   
**Thomas**


	10. Chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas tries to help Jimmy through war and Jimmy fears that Thomas is idealising him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, folks, I was so busy working (and partying ^^) this week I didn't really manage to upload or continue writing.  
> But here comes the new chapter and I got at least three more in store and I hope I'll get to write some more during the weekend.

** Chapter ten **

  
**Dear Thomas** ,

thank you. Really. I needed this.

You are right. I have to pull myself together and keep going. What other choice do I have? There is no backwards in this war, only onwards, facing the enemy. If I die, at least I’ll die a hero. Please do not to forget about me too fast.

I promise I will not do anything stupid. I want to survive this and I understand what you mean when you say I am strong. I feel weak but how bad can that be as long as I know that you believe in me?

I owe you so much and when I get back I will make it up to you as good as I can.

I think about you all the time as well.

There’s more to say but I have to close now, we are moving on. Further into the nightmares.

Love  
**Jimmy**  
  
P.S: I started reading „The picture of dorian grey“ and I’m not sure whether I should feel offended about you thinking that it „suits“ me.

* * *

 

  
**Dear Jimmy** ,  
  
you are one of the bavest men I ever met and I am so, so proud of you.  
I have to say you’ve come a long way from the Jimmy I once knew.  
  
How are you? Are you okay? Are your fights still that intense? Is there anything I can do?

Anna, Baxter and Lady Mary send their kindest regards. They admire your courage. Baxter said she will be furious if you dare to die now that we rekindled our friendship. But she wouldn’t be as furious as me.

I write this sitting at the desk of your old room. It feels more empty than it ever felt before. I can nearly picture you standing here, looking out of the window even though you’re already running late and Carson Downstairs is starting to get furious.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back time.

Love  
**Thomas**

P.S.: You look so bloody young still, one could think you made a deal with the devil. That’s why Dorian Grey reminds me of you. Not because of his vanity. You’re no vain boy any longer.  


* * *

 

  
**Dear Thomas** ,

please stop idealising me. I’m still a bloody idiot. There was nothing brave about volunteering for this war. It was nothing but stupid. And I still am pretty vain and foolish and cheeky and careless.

I am ok, I think. We are making steady progress and I’m starting to believe that the Germans can actually be defeated. But I swear that I will never fire a gun again once this is over.

You are already doing more than enough by writing me those letters. I still carry every single one of them around with me at all times and whenever I find the time, I reread them. Please tell me something about your life again. We always talk so much about me and this bloody war but how are you?

Give the ladies my thanks and tell Baxter my ghost will haunt her if I die because if I do, I don’t do it on purpose. But it’s nice to hear she apparently cares a lot about you. She seems to be a very good friend.

If I could turn back time, I would, I swear. I’d turn it back until my very first day at Downton only this time I would cherish every minute and this time, I would do everything right.

I finished Dorian Grey by the way and I liked it. I decided I’ll take your deal-accusations as a compliment. Thank you Mr. Barrow, but I have to return it. You seem to haven’t aged a day. At least your smile is as vivid as it was eighteen years ago.

I have to finish, we are moving on.

Love  
**Jimmy**


	11. Chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas tells Jimmy about his plans for the future but Jimmy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last chapter purely consisting of letters for a while so I hope you enjoy it :)

** Chapter eleven **

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I hope your last movements were succesfull and you are kicking the Germans in their nonexistant balls!

If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, Jimmy. (I had some glasses of wine, you might have already guessed) I reread every single one of your letters within the last hours and sometimes they sound so much like the Jimmy I remember and sometimes, they sound so different. I’m curious to know what really changed about you one day.

My life is boring and comfortable as ever. Everyone is still very tense because of Master George and Sybil’s husband, but Lady Rose‘s husband has finally been send home and we all hope he won’t be forced to return to the battlefield. They will stay with the Crawleys until the poor man has recovered a bit. He hasn’t been injured too badly but he seems tired enough to sleep until the coronation of our next queen or king.

But I am proud to tell you, I am now a house owner. I finally bought the cottage in the village I wanted to purchase for years and am now searching for tenants. I hope that will give me the possibility to save some money on the side so maybe I can get to see something of the world after I retire. If I ever retire. Somedays I believe I’ll just keep working until I drop dead on the floor. I wouldn’t know what to do with much free time on my hands anyway. I’ve been a servant so long I don’t remember what freedom feels like. I’m not even sure whether I like freedom. It somewhat scares me. But I always wanted to see something oft he world. I’ve never been anywhere else than England – I mean, my wartime in flanders doesn’t really count, all I saw was trenches and trenches and, guess what, trenches. You know what I mean. I remember you once said you wanted to see the world and I envied you for the energy to try and do so. I hope it’s not too late for me to go on adventures.

I think I’ve got something to add to our „when (not if) you get out of this war alive“ list: I want to show you the cottage and the village. It changed a lot since you moved away. We even have a bookstore now! I mean it’s extremely tiny and they rarely have any of the books in store that I want to read but it’s something. Compared to London you’ll still find it incredibly dull though. But I’m aching to roll my eyes on the villagers with you again. Just like the olden days, right?

Please let me know how things are going across the channel.

Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

are you okay? I  know you don’t always have a lot of time to write, but I’m kind of worried.

Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

it’s been 11 day now since I last heard of you and I have to admit I am close to panicking. I understand if you do not feel like writing but please just let me know that you are alright.

Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**James** ,

if you do not answer my letter, I will ask Lord Grantham to try and find out if something happened to you. Please tell me you are fine and just fed up with my letters. I will stop writing you immediately if you want. I just need to know you are safe or I think I might go insane.

Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

  
Jimmy please write. I am begging you. Please don’t be dead.   
**Thomas**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was short but not very sweet...*ducks away*


	12. Chapter twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas finally finds out what happened to Jimmy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I left you hanging from that cliff so long but I was home late yesterday and didn't find the time to update this.   
> As an apology, this chapter is extra-long :)
> 
> We're leaving the letters-only format now and switch to the third-person-narrator for a bit.

** Chapter twelve **

Thomas stared into the distance unmoving. He was pale and there were dark shadows under his red eyes. He was so lost in thought he barely noticed someone was talking to him.  
„Barrow, are you okay?“  
He flinched at the call of his name and blinked to focus on Lord Grantham who had suddenly appeared in front of him. „Of course, Mylord. I was just a little distracted, I am sorry.“  
„You still haven’t heard of James Kent then?“  
„No, Sir.“  
Lord Grantham sighed. „My contact at the army is trying to find something out about his whereabouts but it might take some time. It is chaos over there.“  
„Thank you Mylord. I’m very grateful.“  
Thomas‘ voice was unsteady and his employer noticed his shaking lips.  
„Don’t lose hope yet, Barrow. Maybe he is alright and just having difficulties to post a letter at the moment.“  
Thomas nodded and forced a smile upon his lips. The fake one he had been using for years on more occasions than he could ever count. „I hope so.“  
Lord Grantham left the room with a nod and Thomas had to swallow hard to try and calm himself down when he heard the doorbell ring. He rushed to the door, already expecting the evening post and nearly ripped the envelopes and the package out of the confused postman’s hands. He recognised his name on the package and swallowed again, forcing himself to go on with his duties and putting the package aside to take a look at it after dinner. It cost him all the self-discipline he had.

Once the dinner was finally over after what felt like a lifetime, Thomas asked Baxter to turn off all the lights once the family went to bed and nearly sprinted to his room to rip open the package with shivering hands.

Sitting on his bed, he spread the contents of the package on his mattress and started shivering immediately, his lips forming a silent disbelieving „no“.

In front of him lay two envelopes – one with an unknown handwriting and one with Jimmy’s handwriting on it, a brown paper bag with unknown contents along with three photgraphies (one was the one of him he had sent Jimmy and the other two showed young Jimmy with his parents and Jimmy with his band) and his own copies of Moby Dick and Dorian Grey. He forced himself to pick up the envelope with the unknown handwriting. His hands shivered so much he had problems to decipher the letter’s contents through the curtain of his tears.

_**Dear Mr. Barrow** ,_

_private James Edward Kent asked for you to be noticed if something happened to him. I regret to inform you this case has emerged. Private Kent has been severely injured in battle and been taken to a sickbay at Falaise. He was alive when I last saw him but I don’t know what happened to him afterwards. Please try to contact the authorities in order to find out about his whereabouts. He asked me to tell you to remember mentioning that you are his only living cousin if anything ever happened to him and you were to try and find him. He also asked me to send all of his belongings to you, including a letter that you are only supposed to read if he died. If he is still alive, please make sure to return his belongings to him._

_I hope he recovers. He was a very brave soldier who saved many lives of those who fought by his side, including mine, and has always been greatly admired by all his comrades._

_Yours sincerely,_   
_**Seargent Gary Harper**_   
_**21st Infantry Division** _

Thomas let the letter fall from his hands and hid his face behind his palms, weeping. He felt like someone placed a weight on his chest so heavy it forced all oxygen out of his lungs and made it impossible to breathe. His thoughts were racing and naked panic left  goosebumps on his spine. For a whole minute, he felt like the world just stopped and sat on his mattress unable to move or breathe of feel until the weight on his chest nearly suffocated him and instead of feeling numb he felt like somebody was ripping his insides out of him.  
 „No. No. No!“ The words started of as a whisper but turned into an agonized scream and he felt his heart and whole body convulse in pain, when the first devastated sob finally left his burning throat and he curled up on the bed, shaking.   
He lay there crying in horror, unable to hear the knock on his door. Thomas did not notice Baxter entering the room and talking to him, did not see her picking up the letter and reading it, did not feel her hands on his arms as she knelt before him and tried to make him listen to her until she softly grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him.  
He blinked and looked at her face that showed so much worry and compassion it sent another wave of hurt through all his veins and tried to focus on the words coming out of her mouth. „We don’t know if he is dead, Thomas. He might still be alive.“  
Thomas swallowed a shivering sigh and tried to nod, but couldn’t.  
„But what if he is dead?“  
His voice sounded rough and weak and foreign in his own ears.  
„I will not let you grief before we know if  you have to. Lord Grantham is still awake. We show him the letter and ask him who we should turn to in order to find Jimmy, okay?“  
Thomas weakly nodded and let Dexter pull him to his feet. He felt dizzy and so she offered her arm for him to lean on as they walked down the stairs to the library.

_**Dear Major Norwood** ,_

_I wish to ask about the whereabouts of my Cousin James Edward Kent. He was wounded in battle while serving at the 21st infantry division at the normandy. I have been informed that he had been taken to a sickbay in Falaise but the Doctor’s there told me he had been transported to another hospital because he needed an operation that could not be performed at Falaise._

_Please let me know what happened to him as soon as possible._

_Yours sincerely_   
****_Thomas Barrow_  
  


_**Dear Mr. Barrow** ,_

_your Cousin has been shipped back to a hospital in England. Please contact the St. Mary’s Hospital in London for more information on his current status._

_Yours sincerely_   
**_Major Reginald Norwood_ **

Lord Grantham returned the letter to his Butler who stood in front of him, waiting. The servant’s face told a story of heavy grieving and therefore it didn’t take the old patriarch longer than a split-second to make a decision, but Thomas Barrow interrupted him before he could speak. „If your lordship allows it, I would like to take a few days off. I already organised for a stand-in.“  
Lord Grantham nodded and patted the servants shoulder with pitty.  
 „You take the next train to London. Please take all the time you need. I’ll tell the chauffeur to drive you to the station as soon as you are ready.“  
„Thank you very much, Mylord. You don’t know what this means to me.“  
His employer smiled sadly.  
„I believe I do. Now off you go.“

Later, Thomas did not remember much of the two-hour train journey to London.  
He just sat there, staring at the box in his lap that contained the life of Jimmy Kent. Jimmy’s letter sat there, unopened, since he refused to open it before anyone told him he was actually dead. He touched his own name on the envelope and pictured the very alive Jimmy writing it down and stuffing the envelope into his pocket. Thomas swallowed and blinked and lifted his gaze to look out of the window but the sun blinded him so his gaze dropped to his lap again and he flicked through the photos inside the box, slightly smiling about young Jimmy on his mother’s lap and then staring at the band photography that showed Jimmy on a stage together with three other men, all smiling and apparently having the time of their lives. Jimmy sat at the piano and looked like he never belonged anywhere else in the world. He seemed happy. Thomas swallowed again and looked at his own photo, turned it in his hand and read what Jimmy had written down on the backside for the millionths time since he had gotten this cursed package:  
_„If anything happens to me, please notify Thomas Barrow immediately and send all of my belongings including the letter for him I always wear with me to the following adress“_ Then the address of Downton followed and another note in Jimmy’s handwriting: _„If possible, please leave all other letters I received from Thomas Barrow with me so I can be burried with them.“_  
Thomas let the picture fall back into the box and picked up the brown paperbag he hadn’t looked inside yet. He carefully turned it upside down and a black button, a box of matches and a pocketwatch fell into the carton. Looking at the watch, he pressed his hand against his mouth to contain a sob when he saw something red glimmer on it inside the flickering sunlight. It was undoubtetly Jimmy’s own blood.

London felt like somebody had drained the colours out of the city. Everything seemed grey to Thomas, even in the broad sunlight. The people seemed different as well. Before the war, London had been a place blooming with life. Now everybody seemed to carry some invisible weight on their backs. Thomas felt his chest tighten again and held his hand out to stop a cab.

The hospital was an endless maze of white floors, moans and coughts and nearly drowned the last of Thomas optimism in the smell of desinfectional alcohol. He needed nearly twenty minutes until he found the station they had told him to come to over the phone in order to see „Private Kent“ as they called him. When he was finally sure that he had found the right wing, he approached a nurse.  
„Good afternoon Madame. My name is Thomas Barrow and I am searching for my f- cousin Ji- James Kent.“  
The nurse just nodded. „Follow me, Sir.“  
He hurried to follow her quick steps towards a closed door and nearly stopped when he saw what was behind it. Row after row with bed full of injured men, some of them sleeping, some of them staring into the distance, some of them moaning and some of them even screaming. Nurses and doctors were hurrying around everywhere and it felt like a throwback to his own duty at the Downton hospital during the great war. The nurse showing him the way to Jimmy stopped and looked back at him. „This way, please, sir.“ Thomas cleared his throat and got moving again.

They walked into the furthest corner of the room until the nurse stopped in front of a curtain. „He hasn’t been conscious most of the time and he has a high fever that we have been struggling to get down for days. Please don’t get your hopes up too much. We’re still not sure if he is going to make it.“  
Thomas nodded and clinged to the carton box in his hands, pressing it to his hurting chest.  
The nurse moved the curtain and Thomas felt his hands let go of the box,  holding a breath at the view of the man inside the bed barely recognisable as Jimmy.   
„What happened to him?“  
„He has been standing too close to an exploding german grenade. He had shrapnels in his extremities and stomach and suffered a number of fractured rips but the Doctor’s at Falaise and our Dr. Filmore did his best and saved him from bleeding to death internally. Unfortunately private Kent caught an infection. Combined with the bloodloss that weakened him, his chances of survival are not the best. But he survived up to now which is longer than most of the other fellas with his kind of injuries do so…you never know.“   
Thomas stood there, unmoving and staring at Jimmy while listening to her until she gave him the tiniest compassionate smile and knelt down to help him pick up the package. She handed it back to him and pointed to a stool next to the bed. „Keep him company. In some cases, that seems to help.“  
Thomas nodded slowly, still unable to move.  
„How long has he been like that?“  
„About nearly two weeks. When they brought him here, he was nearly dead. Been trying to stitch him up as good as they could but they didn’t have the right equipment.“  
„Has he been conscious since he was injured?  
„More than once, yes. But he was in no state for a real conversation and could not sit up.“  
„So you don’t know if his brain…“  
„Oh I believe his brain is fine. He has been fever-talking a lot. Most of the time, he murmured something about a pen. Or your name. Must be a very dear cousin to him.“  
She tried to hide a smirk and looked to the floor.  
„I’ve got to get going, Mr. Barrow. If you’ve got any further questions, please try to ask one of the doctors.“  
Thomas nodded and cleared his throat to find his voice. „Thank you, Miss….“  
„Evans. If you’ll excuse me.“  
The nurse left and Thomas gathered the courage to make a step towards the bed, close the curtain behind him, put the box on the floor and sit down on the stool.  
  
Jimmy was as pale as freshly fallen snow, only his cheeks shone in a bright, feverish pink. His face was covered with bruises and healing cuts, his arms and the visible part of his chest covered in layers and layers of bandages. Thomas pressed his clenched fist against his lips to hold back a sob, not sure which of the feelings inside his chest would win. The relief to see that Jimmy was alive or the devastation about the state he was in? He tried to focus on the flicker of hope inside him and wiped his eyes while clearing his throat again.  
„Hello Jimmy. It’s me, Thomas.“  
He did not get any reaction from his unconscious friend, but decided to keep talking anyway. „You promised me to take care, you bloody idiot.“ He tried to sound angry, but his voice was all soft. „I got your stupid letter, but I refuse to open it. Because you did not die. And you won’t. I will not let you. You hear me? You have to fight, Jimmy. Please…“ His voice trembled and died and he squinted his eyes to keep the tears from falling. Once he had pulled himself together taking a few deep breaths, he lifted his gaze and mustered Jimmy’s  still face. Age was indeed visible on his features but in Thomas‘ eyes, the tiny wrinkles only made him more handsome. Even now with his dried out lips, the dark lilac shadows under his eyes and wild stands of  greyish-blonde damp hair dangling onto his pale forehead. His gaze wandered from his face further down to his hands. One of them bandaged, the one next to Thomas one of the few body parts not covered in gauze. He felt the sudden urge to grab that pale hand and try to let Jimmy feel he wasn’t alone but hesitated. Would Jimmy be okay with that? He frowned. „Fuck it.“ He let his hand slide forward and softly took Jimmy’s cold hand into his own, stroking the back of his soft big hand with his thumb.  
„I’m here, Jimmy. You are not alone in this. You’re never alone. I promise.“  
He carefully placed his other hand on Jimmy’s forehead and nearly flinched at the heat it radiated with. „Damn it, Jimmy, you’ve got to fight this fever.“  
Thomas looked around and saw a bowl of water with a washcloth standing on the other side of the bed and let go of Jimmy’s hand to get up and fetch a wet cloth.  
He had just gotten to his feet when he thought he heard a quiet moan and stopped in his movements. He looked down at Jimmy who’s eyelids were flickering and saw his lips open slightly, releasing another quiet moan.  
„Jimmy? Jimmy you hear me?“  
But there was no response and Jimmy remained unconscious although his eyelids still flickered as if he was fighting to open his eyes.  
Thomas placed his hand on Jimmy’s again and tried to comfort him in a calm voice.  
„Shht, Jimmy. Everything’s fine. You’re gonna be okay.“  
Then he fetched the washcloth, dipped it into the water and carefully wrung it out to return to his place next to the bed and tenderly dab the sweat from the younger man’s burning forehead. His eyelids stopped flickering and his lips slipped close as Thomas continued to stroke his face with the cloth until he wet it again and placed it on Jimmy’s forehead again to leave it there.

Thomas spent the rest of his day renewing the cloth every fifteen minutes until Dr. Filmore appeared and asked Thomas to leave for a few minutes so he could inject his patient his daily dosis of Penicillin. Thomas tried to ask him about Jimmy’s chances of survival, but the bearded old doctor just shrugged and hurried off afterwards.

The sun had already set above London and nurse Evans had just told him to leave for the second time, when Thomas suddenly felt Jimmy’s hand that he had been holding for hours moving inside his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this non-letter writing of mine ;)


	13. Chapter thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weight from Thomas's chest is lifted and turned into something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just quickly leave this chapter here because I didn't want to leave you hanging on that cliffhanger for too long before I get to watch England move to the worldcup final hopefully :)

**Chapter thirteen**  
  
Thomas froze in his movement and looked at his friend's face. "Jimmy?"   
He saw his eyelids flicker again and felt a soft squeeze on his hand. Thomas bit his lip. "If you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand again as hard as you can, okay?"

Thomas felt another, slightly stronger squeeze at his hand and let out a laughter full of disbelief and relief. "It's me, Thomas. You are at a hospital. You've been injured, but everything is going to be fine."

He tried to control his voice but couldn't keep it from trembling.

Suddenly, Jimmy's lips slowly moved, letting out a barely audible whisper. "Thomas?"

"I'm here." The older man grabbed Jimmy's hand with both of his now, no longer caring whether that was appropriate or not.

The corners of Jimmy's mouth slightly twitched and formed a small smile when his flickering eyes finally flew open and his dark blue eyes focused on Thomas who swallowed, desperately trying not to start crying.  
„Your voice still sounds the same.“  
Thomas smiled, still unsuccesfully trying to blink away his tears and couldn’t say another word.

"Am I dead?" Jimmy's voice sounded stronger now, growing into a little more than just a whisper.

Thomas chuckled. "No, you're not. I heard you really tried to die, but you didn't. You're at a hospital in London."

The younger man swallowed and slowly nodded. "Are you real or is this the fever again?"

"I am real" Thomas softly pressed Jimmy's hand again, making the other man smile.

"You came."

"Of course I did. You scared the living shit out of me, you bastard."

"I'm sorry."

"Just get well soon and I will stop being mad at you."

Jimmy chuckled slightly.

"How long have I been out?"

"Nearly two weeks."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, that sums it up quiet brilliantly."

"How did you find me?"

"Your seargent followed your instructions."

Jimmy suddenly blinked and his smile faded. "Did you read the letter?"

"I wanted to, but I didn't. Your seargent only wrote that you had been injured but not that you died. I refused to read it before I knew..." Thomas swallowed. "Before I knew for sure you did not make it." His gaze sank to the floor and he could barely hide the shiver running trough his hole body.

Jimmy watched the older man trying to contain his emotions and carefully moved his hand inside Thomas‘, stroking his shivering thumb tenderly over his palm, ignoring the drumming of his heartbeat in his chest. Thomas looked up a bit startled and tried to blink his tears away, his heart pounding heavily in his chest now suddenly relieved of the invisible weight.

"I'm still here, Thomas. I made it."

The butler forced a smile upon his face and nodded. "I know. And I'm glad you did."

"So don't read that letter, you hear me?" His voice sounded serious, solemn even. 

"Of course I won't." Thomas let go of Jimmy's hand to quickly wipe his eyes and did not find the courage to grab it again afterwards.

"This is not really the way I imagined our reunion. I wanted to look dashing and confident, not half-dead and a bloody mess." Jimmy chuckled.

"Me neither. But it's good to see you."

Jimmy slowly nodded. "It is. Though I have to say you  look horribly pale. Do you ever sleep?"

"Not within the last weeks."

Jimmy bit his lip, dropping his gaze. "I'm sorry I put you through this."

"Not like you had a bloody choice, right?"

"Not really."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"We were fighting a large troop of Germans when a grenade landed next to my seargent's feet. So I picked it up, started running and threw it back. I just didn't throw it far enough, so I got hit by the explosion. Everything after that is a bit of a blur. I remember the pain and waking up every now and then but I never understood were I was or what was happening. I think I hallucinated a lot."

"They stitched you up and shipped you back to England for an operation. The nurse said you had shrapnels everywhere."

"That explains why my whole fucking body hurts."

"Should I fetch somebody?" Thomas was already nearly on his feet when Jimmy grabbed his arm and weakly pulled him back down.

"Not yet. If they give me morphine I'll fall back asleep immediately."

"You need to rest."

"I waited 18 bloody years to see you, so just give me five minutes."

Thomas found himself smiling and nodded.

"Alright, five minutes."

"You're not wearing those glasses from the picture."

"They are only for work. I'd forgotten to take them off for the photo."  
„At a funfair?“ Jimmy smirked and Thomas looked to the floor, shrugging.

"Well you look good with our without them. Even better than I imagined. Aging suits you."

Thomas laughed and shook his head, trying to keep himself from blushing.

"Says the man who apparently hasn't aged a day."

"Oh my wrikles are only covered by bruises. Once they heal I'll look like a grandfather."

"Of course, Dorian Grey."

"Hey, my hair is getting grey, isn't it? I am aging", Jimmy laughed.

"It suits you."

Jimmy smiled and looked away. "Suddenly feels like we've been working at Downton together just yesterday."

"It does."

Thomas watched Jimmy grit his teeth, apparently in pain, and frowned.

"I should really get a doctor now."

"It's touching how much you worry, mother hen, but I am fine."

Thomas reached for the washcloth still resting on Jimmy's forehead and carefully reached up to check his temperature.

"You're still glowing with fever. You need to sleep and gain strenght to fight the infection."

"I'm going to be okay, Thomas. I promise. I'm feeling a lot better."

"As long as the fever doesn't go down, you're not out of danger. I'm surprised you even woke up so suddenly. The nurse said you haven't been fully conscious ever since you got here."

Jimmy hesitated and cleared his throat. Trying to hold back a surprisingly shy grin. "Maybe I just felt I wasn't alone anymore."

Their eyes met and Thomas forced himself to look away.

"I'm going to get a nurse now. We can speak again tomorrow. They will throw me out soon anyway."

"How long have you been here?"

"Just a couple of hours."   
„How did you convince the Crowleys to let you go?“  
„They knew I was a mess so they wanted me to come here nearly as bad as myself.“  
Thomas got up to his feet and froze in his movement when Jimmy slowly raised his arm to reach for his dangling hand. Jimmy's touch on his fingers was as light as a feather but still semed to send electricity through all of Thomas' body.

"I never got to post my answer to your last letter, but I wrote it. It was in my uniform.“  
„You want me to read it now?“  
„Take the letter with you. I cannot watch you reading it.“  
„Alright then. I’ll ask the nurses if they know about the whereabouts of your uniform when I leave. But now I’ll go get a doctor, okay?“  
Jimmy nodded and let go of Thomas‘ fingers. „Okay.“  
  
The nurses told Thomas that Jimmy’s bloodstained Uniform had long been thrown away but his personal belongings had been taken out and kept for him. They handed him a small paperbag containing a bunch of letters that Thomas took with him to a small Hotel at which he had found an affordable room to stay at. After laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened lately, he spilled the contents of the paperbag to find the letter Jimmy had been talking about. He found it beneath several of his own letters to Jimmy and had to swallow at the thought that he had really been carrying them around with him all the time. After putting the other letters back into the bag, he finally opened the one adressed to him.

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

 

I’m still caught up in our last mission but we decided to stay put for tonight so I have a little time to answer your letter. Insomnia won’t let me sleep anyway.

Me flirting with you? Oh Mr. Barrow, you know me, I would never dare to, or would I? Imagine me smiling while I write this.

When I get back, I’ll try and sleep as much as Rose’s fella. I’ll sleep through a whole bloody week. Afterwards I’ll eat everything I can get my hands on and catch the first train heading to Downton but I need to rest first. Otherwise you might mistake me and my horrible eye-circles for a ghost.

Congratulations to buying that house! I think it’s a clever move of yours. I can already imagine you traveling the world and afterwards you’ll have a nice fireplace to return to. Maybe, if you like to and I manage to save a little money as well as soon as I have a job again, we could see some of the world together someday? I might have wanted to travel when I was young but then life got in the way and I never really made it any further than to London. I always wanted to go to Italy and France (non-war France, I mean) and Spain and…too many places. And I think I would enjoy seeing those places even more if I did it with you. At least if you enjoyed my company after seeing me again. I’m a little worried my spell wears off as soon as you get to see my old ass again. But I hope it doesn’t. I mean, imagine us eating fancy olives and drinking wine and swimming in Greece or somewhere. That’d be great, I think. Does that sound weird? If so, I don’t really care. It’s the truth and apparently (to my own surprise) I’m all in for the truth lately.

I do reread you letters a lot. I read them and I try to remember your voice but the memory is hard to grasp. I wish I knew when this war is going to be over so I could start counting the days until I can finally hear that voice of  yours again. I’ll have you talk a lot just so I can listen to it and burn it into my memory for good.

How is life at Downton going?

I better try to get some rest now so I’m ready to shoot some bloody Krauts before they shoot me.

Love   
**Jimmy**

Thomas smiled and pressed the pages against his chest, laying down and staring at the ceiling again. The weight on his chest was gone, but something seemed to be tearing at his heart anyway. He knew all to well what it was but fell asleep from exhaustion before his throught could start running in nearly twenty year old circles again.


	14. Chapter fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Jimmy have some catching up to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't update for quite a while but life got in the way and the end of the football world cup destroyed my writing routine. I used to write new chapters with the games on in the background and now I somehow can't get myself to write every evening :D  
> But I still have some finished chapters left for you so I hope I won't be causing any long hiatuses anytime soon.
> 
> Did you hear about the Downwon Movie News by the way? I am thrilled to see it! *.*

** Chapter fourteen **

Thomas was relieved to see Jimmy already awake and sitting up when he arrived at the hospital the next day. The younger man even greeted him with a smile and a wave when he saw him from afar.   
„Good morning. You look better“, Thomas said sitting down on the chair next to the bed.  
„Morning. I feel better.“  
Jimmy’s voice sounded much stronger than the day before and finally resembled the memory Thomas had stored in his mind for eighteen years.   
„How’s the fever?“  
„Dropping but not gone yet. But the nurse said she doesn’t want to call the coffinmaker at the sight of me any longer so I believe even she is optimistic I’m getting better.“  
„That’s good. What did the doctor say?“  
„Well it turns out the nurse you spoke to exaggerated a bit. Yes, there where some shrapnels stuck at my extremeties and stomach and I apparently lost a lot of blood, but it looks like I should be able to recover just fine.“  
Thomas face lit up with a big smile. „That’s great to hear, Jimmy! Are you still in pain though?“  
Jimmy shook his head. „Well I wouldn’t say I’m great, but I’m okay. What about you? Finally got some sleep, eh?“  
He pointed at Thomas‘ eyes and grinned.  
„I slept like a baby. Full eight hours.“  
„Sleep is so underrated, isn’t it?“  
„Bloody underrated.“  
„Let’s add sleeping in the shadow of a tree to our precious list of things to do, eh?“  
„Yes. Let’s.“  
They smiled at each other and fell silent until Jimmy cleared his throat.  
„Hey didn’t you have some kind of a carton with you yesterday?“  
„Yes, I brought you the belongings they send to me.“ Thomas reached under the bed where he had put the carton the evening before and put it on his lap.  
„Is my watch in there?“  
Thomas nodded and handed him the watch so Jimmy could look it over.  
The younger man moaned. „I knew it.“  
„What?“  
„It’s broken.“  
„Hand it over.“  
„Think you can fix it? It was my father’s.“  
Thomas shrugged. „I’m a clockmaker’s son after all, I can try.“  
„The glass is broken. I think I fell on it.“  
He handed the watch back. Thomas looked at the splintered glass and nodded.  
„Looks like you did. But I’m sure I can fix it.“  
„Is there anything you can’t do, Barrow?“  
Thomas laughed, pocketed the watch and tried to ignore his pounding heart. „You want a list?“  
Jimmy grinned and nodded towards the box. „Is my button also in there?“  
Thomas frowned. „That black button? Yes it is, why?“  
Jimmy broke eye contact and looked into the distance.  
„It’s a button from my livery at Downton. I had it ever since the day I left and it became some kind of lucky charm.“  
The older man smirked. „Hasn’t brought you much luck lately, has it?“  
„Well I’m alive and talking to you so I like to think it kind of did.“  
„True. Thank you then, magic button, for saving James Edward Kent.“  
Jimmy rolled his eyes.  
„They told you my full name.“  
„Your seargent did, my dear Edward“, Thomas said with a grin.  
Jimmy threw his head back against the headboard and sighed. „I hate that name.“  
„I have to admit It doesn’t suit you at all.“   
„Why, do I not look like Edward the…I don’t know. Strict headmaster from Sutton?“  
Thomas laughed. „Of course you do. Like a very boring and conservative middleaged man from a strict upbringing who would never do anything impetuous like getting it on with a duchess.“  
„I’m considering to be offended.“  
„Because you forgot that irony existed?“  
„No, because you reminded me of Anstruther. That woman…god I don’t know what I liked about her.“  
Thomas swallowed and looked to the floor and they fell silent again.  
„Did you read my letter? The one I never got to send?“  
„I did.“  
„Good.“ Jimmy nodded and began fiddling with the blanket under his hands.  
Thomas put the box back under the bed and reached into the pockets of his coat that he was still wearing, pulling out a bundle of letters.  
„I thought you might like to have them back. Since, you now…you told your seargent…“ He couldn’t finish the sentence.  
Jimmy took the envelopes, looking a bit emberassed, and swallowed. „Thanks.“  
Their eyes met and for a second, Thomas couldn’t stop himself from drowning in the blue of Jimmy’s eyes before he forced himself to look away and clear his throat.

  
„The letter on top is a new one.“  
„What?“ Jimmy’s face lit up with a smile.  
„Couldn’t leave yours unaswered, could I?“  
Jimmy looked at the bright white envelope on top and started to rip it open.  
„Read it when I’m gone. I don’t want to watch you read it.“  
Jimmy nodded and put the letters down next to him on his mattress.  
„As you wish, Mr. Barrow.“  
„So…Is there anything I can do? Get you something you need?“  
„I’ve got everything I need right here, thank you.“  
Thomas tried not to blush at the cheeky smile Jimmy shot him.  
„How long until you think you’ll be able to get up again?“  
Jimmy threw his head back and sighed.  
„Not before the fever’s gone for good. I tried this morning but the nurses won’t let me. And to be honest, I broke into a fucking sweat even sitting up.“  
„They won’t be sending you back then, right?“  
Jimmy shrugged. „Not yet, but I believe they will soon enough. My injuries are not that bad.“  
Thomas snorted. „You nearly died.“  
„Doctor says my wounds are healing nicely and there won’t be any permanent damage. Maybe only at my left hand.“  
He raised the said hand that was still covered in bandages.  
„Can’t move my fingers as smooth as I used to. But it’s still good enough to reload a gun.“  
„Does it hurt?“  
„Couple of weeks ago I’d said yes but after having pieces of a fucking grenade inside me…nah, not really.“  
Thomas blinked to wipe away the mental picture of a hurting Jimmy on the battlefield and stared to the floor.  
„You need to tell them it does.“  
„Pardon?“  
„If you tell them it hurts a lot with every movement, they will not send you back.“  
Jimmy did not answer immeadiately but stared at Thomas and swallowed.  
„I’m sorry Thomas, but I think I cannot do that. I won’t lie.“  
„I don’t want them to send you back there.“  
Jimmy looked at Thomas‘ hand that was laying on his knee and hesitated, before he carefully reached for it and just softly touched it with his own.  
Thomas‘ head snapped up and his eyes shot Jimmy a confused look.   
„I know. But I will have to see this through to the end.“  
„Why?“  
„Because I have to stop running from everything in my life. I have to start finishing things.“  
Thomas felt the sweat of Jimmy’s pale hand on the back of his own and somehow found the courage to turn his hand under the younger man’s palm and grab it. Jimmy flinched and Thomas immediately wanted to pull his hand away in shame, but now Jimmy held onto it.  
„What if you get hurt again?“  
„I won’t be that stupid twice. And I still got five lives left, remeber?“  
Thomas chuckled sadly and shook his head.  
„I don’t stand any chance to talk you out of it?“  
„None. I’m sorry.“  
„I understand.“

  
Jimmy looked at him with a fading smile, holding his gaze with a sudden solemn look in his eyes. „I will return when this damn war is won and then I will come to Downton and we’ll act like this…intermezzo never really happened. I want us to have the proper reunion we both wished for.“  
„If I had known you didn’t want to see me, I wouldn’t have…“  
„Bollocks. Don’t be stupid Thomas. I love seeing you. I just can’t stand lying here like a pathetic mummy. I wanted this to be different.“  
„But why is that so important?“  
Jimmy hesitated for a second and licked his lips nervously.  
„I’ll tell you when I get back.“  
Thomas rolled his eyes at him. „I’m getting tired of this, you know? Maybe I should have read your bloody goodbye-letter after all.“  
„Don’t you dare.“ Jimmy finally pulled his hand away and stared at Thomas with sudden anger on his bruised features.  
„Then just get back soon in one piece so I won’t have to.“  
His hand felt burning empty without Jimmy’s in his and he quickly slid it into the pocket of his trousers.  
„I will.“  
„Good.“  
„And now you have to go.“  
Thomas pressed his lips together and let his gaze fall to the floor again.  
„Of course.“  
He got up and turned around to leave, when Jimmy clering his throat held him back.  
„Not because I don’t want you here. Because I want you to stay too badly and I can’t stand being as pathetic as I am now. Plus, the morphium will make me say all kinds of awkward sentiental things sooner or later and…I want to spend time with you when I’m back to normal and don’t look like shit any longer. I don’t want to be pitied.“  
Thomas turned around, half-smiling.  
„You are still that stupid boy you used to be after all.“  
„Told you so.“ He smiled.  
„You’ll be alright?“  
„I’ll be dandy.“  
Thomas flinched at the memory of the day Jimmy had last said that to him.  
„You better be. And you better write!“  
„Of course I will. Thank god I’m right-handed.“  
„Well…this is goodbye then?“  
„It is. For now.“  
Jimmy stretched his hand out and Thomas hesistantly took it to shake it and hold it longer than he felt he should have. A little shiver ran through his body, when Jimmy’s thumb gently moved over the back of his hand.  
„Thank you for coming, Thomas. It was great seeing you. I mean it.“  
„Always.“  
„Until soon.“  
„Promise me this is goodbye but not farewell.“  
„I promise.“  
„Take care of yourself.“  
„You too. And now off with you. Downton needs you and I need time to answer that letter of someone very dear to me.“  
Thomas smiled and let go of his hand.  
„Goodbye then, Jimmy.“  
„Goodbye, Thomas.“  
And without another look, Thomas turned away and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I am seperating them again but I kind of had to...


	15. Chapter fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy gets to read Thomas' answer to his last letter and writes a reply from his hospital-bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back to the letters! I hope you'll like this. There will be some more chapters with a third person narrator again later on.

** Chapter fifteen **

**My dearest Edward,**

I cannot stop myself. Your middle name is just so hilariously unfitting I will need some time to get over it and therefore will have to keep mocking you. I would say I’m sorry but we both now I am not.

I hope that when you read this, you are already getting better because I need you to heal and get back on your feet. Truth be told, I was uncredibly scared when you stopped replying to my letters, mortified even. When they send me your stuff, telling me you had been injured, part of me was sure that you were dead and as much as I fear to admit it, that thought darkened my whole world in a way so gloomy I can never find words to describe.

Seeing you then, lying in that bed, unconscious and feverish…I really worried about you. But still, I’m very happy that you are alive and even more happy I got to see you again after eighteen long years. Whatever happens, no one can take that away from me. I hope your fever will go down for good soon and I can finally stop worrying. I’m old, you know. My heart can only stand so much sorrow.

Flirting is a dangerous thing, isn’t it?

To answer the question from your unsend letter: Of course I would like traveling with you, Jimmy. I got quite a lot of savings and I think together we could manage to see plenty of places before I finally grow too old for adventures. I think I will be forced to retire soon enough anyway. I don’t know how long Downton will still be in need of a Butler. Five years? Ten? Who knows. If the world changes as much after this war as it did after the last one I might even end up unemployed in a couple of months. But I try not to worry about it. With my own house – that I rented to a young couple for now – and my savings I’ll get around until I find something new.

Your „spell“ did not wear off at all. ~~You should know after all those years that it will never wear off for me.~~  And to satisfy your vanity: Apart from the signs of fever and your bruises, you are still bloody handsome.

I hope my voice and appearance weren’t much of a dissapointment to you.  
  
I’m looking forward to see you again tomorrow to hand you this letter. For now, I have to sleep. I finally feel like I cannot only breathe, but sleep again.

Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas,**

I will never be able to thank you enough for visiting me. You cannot imagine what it meant to me to see you. So i am thankful enough that I’ll allow you to mock me some more for that name I inherited from my grandfather. It suited him way better than me, by the way. He was stiff as a board.

I think words will never be enough to tell you how sorry I am that you worried so much about me. The last thing in the world I want is to hurt you again. I promise to take better care of myself in the future, to be less reckless. To just throw bloody grenades back instead of running with them like the proper fool I am.   
  
I don’t want your heart to ever hurt again because of me. Or of anything, to be honest. I’m lost for words to explain so please just believe me when I say that I probably worry as much about you as you worry about me even though I hope nobody fired a weapon at you recently. I just want you to be happy and if you ever feel like I am standing in your way of being just that, I will dissapear from your life again just as I did all those years ago. But I don’t want to. I’ll never want that again.  
  
Flirting is indeed a dangerous thing. I learned that lesson quite a while ago. So I stopped doing it just for the sake of entertainment, you know?

Great, it is settled then. Once I gathered enough money to join you and you are ready to leave Downton behind, we’ll travel and see as many beaches and lakes and mountains as we possibly can.   
  
I have to return the compliment. And thanks for soothing my vanity. One of the nurses just got me a mirror. I needed that compliment.   
  
You could never dissapoint me, Thomas. And even though I am sad about the circumstances, I am glad I got to finally hear your voice again. Now I will have it in my head when I read your letters.   
  
I hope you had a good travel back to Downton and weren’t greeted with to much work at hand. I hope the family is not angry with you for leaving to see me? I don’t want them to think anything bad of you so I attached a note for Lord Grantham so they know how thankful I am they let you take some time off just to see me.

The doctor just checked me over again and he seems optimistic. Since this afternoon, my fever is dropping constantly and I believe it will be completely gone tomorrow. He says I should be able to get up again by the end of the week and does not really get tired to call me a bloody wonder what I find quite melodramatic. Unfortunately, when I asked him if I could ever return to playing the piano again professionally, he did not seem so optimistic any longer. He said my hand might always hurt a bit when I move my fingers to fast due some injury at my tendons connecting my palm to my fingers. Funny we both end up with injuries on our hands after wars, isn’t it? When he told me that my career as a pianist is most likely finally over, I waited to feel devastated, but I didn’t. I already knew those days were behind me the day I volunteered to join the army. I’m sad you will never hear me play an my best though. But I will play for you, as I promised. Maybe just not as fast as I could have a couple of months ago. Maybe I can teach you to be my right piano-hand and together we will sound as good as I used to sound alone. Poetic, isn’t it?

I guess the morphine makes me even more sentimental than any lavender tea and rum ever could. I know I keep writing things I better shouldn’t so I will stop now. My eyes are falling close anyway.

Please write me when you can. I’ll let you now when I get out of here so your letters always reach me.

Love  
**Jimmy**  
  
**P.S:** Thank you for returning your letters to me. I like having them back. I’m sorry you found out about my wish to be burried with them. I hope you don’t find that inappropriate. But apart from my dad’s old watch and my stupid lucky button they are the most valuable belonging I own. God that morphine…I’ll stop now.

* * *

 

**Dear Lord Grantham** ,

I just wanted to thank you very much for allowing Mr. Barrow to take some time off to visit me. Please rest assured that it meant a lot to me to see a dear friend in this time of recovery.

Yours sincerely  
**James Kent**  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone leaving any kind of feedback in the comments! <3


	16. Chapter sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy is a riddle Thomas cannot quiet solve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wherever you read this, you are not melting like I am.  
> It's incredibly hot at Germany at the moment, but I still try to keep writig this in the evenings with a hot computer on my lap :D
> 
> Enjoy!

** Chapter sixteen **

**Dear Anna,**

thank you for writing me. I am back at Downton and I am fine. Jimmy is alive and although he had been badly hurt, he is getting better. Unfortunately, he will surely be send back to war soon enough. He promised me to take better care of himself in the future but then again who can ever keep a promise like that at war?

It was nice seeing him again. He seems to have changed a lot but he is still the Jimmy we all knew all those years ago. I still cannot read him and sometimes his letters seem an unsolvable riddle of unspoken secrets to me. But maybe there are none and I am just imagining things.

Anyway, how are the children? And Mr. Bates? I hope we’ll get to have tea together again soon. Baxter sends her greetings and says she would love to see you too.

Kind regards  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Jimmy** ,

how are you? Better and cured of that fever, I hope?

I have to admit your morphine-infused letter left me a bit confused but I’ll try to answer what I can.

You don’t have anything to thank me for and please stop apologizing. It’s not your fault you got hurt. It’s the bloody Germans. And of course you are not standing in my way. What are you talking about?

To be honest, no I do not know what you mean according to flirting and I do not know what to say to that. I really don’t.

You are a riddle, James Edward Kent (No, still not over the Edward). A riddle a cannot quite solve. You keep telling me that you will explain one day but I wonder what there might be to explain. We’re friends, aren’t we? And I know that.

Thank you for the note to Lord Grantham. He wanted me to tell you he apprechiated it but that you have nothing to thank him for. He and the family wish you all the best and hope that you will get well soon.

I’m so sorry to hear about your hand. You loved playing the piano and I guess it must hurt knowing that there is no way back into the profession you used to have so much passion for. It really is some kind of irony we both ended up with injured hands but I cannot get myself to laugh about fortune’s bad joke. Let me tell you that doctor’s often exaggerate. When I got hurt, everbody though I would never be able to carry heavily loaded trays again, but I proved them wrong. And I bet you will prove them wrong too. If not, I will be more than glad to serve as your right piano-hand. At least if I have any talent for that at all. And I’m sure you’ll still be a great player the way things are now.

Be careful, Jimmy. I might make you keep that travel-promise!  
  
Love  
**Thomas**  
  
P.S: It is touching to know you care about my letters so much. Thank you for letting me know. I’m working on repairing your watch at the moment so I can hopefully send it to you before you have to go back. A thought that still horrifies me, to be honest.

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

my fever is finally down and I managed to get up on my own today. Everything still hurts and I feel kind of sore, but I'm going to be okay in no time. 

I'm sorry my last letter was a bit confused. To be honest I don't really remember everything that I wrote because I was pretty high on morphine that day. After you left, my body kind of acted up and they urged me to get back to sleep but I needed to answer your letter first. Maybe that was stupid. Did I write anything offensive? If so, I am sorry. Anyway, now they stopped giving me any morphine at all, I might be in pain but my head is clear again.

Of course we are friends, Thomas. The things I need to tell you, I need to tell you in person. I know we could have spoken about them while you were here but it didn't feel like the right moment. I still need to get back into that bloody war and I don't want to talk about everything before I know that I will return from it. It doesn't seem fair to me otherwise. I now I'm speaking in riddles but there are things in life too big for letters and I hope you forgive me.

Please give my thanks to the family. I'm glad I was still halfway in my right senses when I wrote the letter to them. 

Don't worry about my hand. I'm sure it's going to be alright and as already said the days of Piano-Jimmy are over anyway. I could never go back to being a musician - with or without two fully working hands. It would hurt too much to constently be reminded of my dead friends. I still miss them a lot. In the field I was always busy with being scared or fighting but now that I spend most of my day lying in this bed, staring at the ceiling...it hurts. They were the closest thing I ever had to a family ever since my parents died and even though I know I have you (and don't get me wrong, I am very happy about it), I feel lonely. I've never really spent a lot of time on my own. I always busied myself with meeting new people and making friends. Sometimes I think I did that because I can barely stand myself. I'm sounding gloomy again, am I not? See, that's what happens when I've got too much time and too little things to do. 

I'm looking forward to play the piano for and with you though. Maybe creating new memories while playing will help. I'm sure it will. The thought of spending time with you already does.

I might not have been quite myself writing that last letter, but I meant it: I do want to travel with you and I will. Or don't you want to travel together with me? If so, just let me know and I'll stop bothering you with my crazy plans.

How are you? I hope you no longer worry about me that much because then I would have to worry about you and that's a spiral I don't want to get us into.

Is your new gardener still annoying you? And how are the Downton-Boys? Will Rose's husband get send back?

What are you up to? Any big dinners coming up or do you have some time on your hands to enjoy life? I hope you do because you seemed so very stressed when I saw you - entirely my fault, I know - I feel you need some relaxation.

Love

**Edward** , formally known as Jimmy (just to make you grin, because I love imagining you grinning)

P.S: Of course I care about your letters a lot. I wouldn't have asked to be burried with them if I didn't. Thank you for fixing my clock but don't send it to me. I want you to keep it until I return. I bet I would only break it again. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of the day when I have to get back to the battlefield but we both know I have to. I signed up for a duty that has not been finished yet.


	17. Chapter seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Jimmy are back at their letter-routines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still melting away in the heat and since that makes writing a little more tough at the moment (I'm sleep-deprived because it's lika a bilion degrees in our bedroom), I only have two more finished chapters in store. I will try to keep the halfway fast updates up but I'm afraid I might get a lot slower in the near future.  
> But please bear with me. I'm fully motivated to keep wrtiting this as fast as I can ;)

** Chapter seventeen **

**Dear Jimmy** ,

it's good to hear you are slowly getting better. I hate to think you are in pain. Please take your time to heal and don't rush yourself too much. 

Don't worry about your morphine-infused letter. You didn't say anything offensive or wrong. You just sounded confused, that's all.

I just wished you‘d stop hinting on those "things" you need to say. You know me well enough to guess how difficult it is for me to read you correctly. I don't want to ever make the same mistake to misunderstand you again and you being so very cryptic does not help at all. Do not get me wrong, I am not angry, I am just...confused. But let's just leave it at that and never speak of it again until you finally feel like it's the right moment to tell me your "too big for a letter" secret. I just hope you haven't murdered anyone or fell for a duchess again.

I can barely imagine you not being able to stand yourself since you always seem so self-confident but then again I know you are different from what you sometimes seem to be. 

I understand you miss your friends. There is barely anything worse than feeling like you've lost your harbour in life, your home. No matter if that harbour were people or a place. I more than once thought I was going to be thrown out of Downton and even though that is different from losing a family of friends, I very well know loneliness. The way I am forces me to be lonely. To be honest, I have always been and will always be lonely. I am an outcast. A man not taken to be a "real man". Not normal. Since that makes loneliness kind of my mistress, believe me when I say one can learn to live with it. As long as there are people who are able to cast it's shadows away every now and then. People like you. I have to admit that I feel considerably less lonely since you started writing me. You and your letters make me feel that there is somebody out there actually caring about me and that is a new feeling for me. Do not get me wrong - Anna and Baxter are good friends. But their friendship always felt a bit like pitty. Especially since I have mistreated them badly in the past but they chose to stay friendly towards me anyway. They are good people, but I feel like they never fully understand me. You, on the other hand...I always felt like we were very much alike. Of course not as alike as I wished for, but we were different from the rest. We always had a connection. You made me feel understood and, sorry to sound so girlish, at home. Last week, when I got to see you again I felt more at home than any day within the last 18 years. Talking to you felt so natural as if we had always been friends. I know you don't want to hear it, but I want to thank you for that. You're making my old self feel alive again. And I wish I could do the same for you. Whenever you feel sad or lonely, please keep in mind that even if there were horrible losses in your life, you are never truly alone. 

Of course I want to travel with you and play the piano and do all the things we have been writing about within the last months. Can you believe it's already been four months? I would love to spend time with you as long as you can stand my annoying presence.

I am good. Things at Downton calmed down a bit since we know that master George has not been in a lot of active fighting yet. At least that's what he wrote his mother but since I know him, I doubt that he is telling the truth. Rose's husband apparently will be send back and Rose is furious about it but Mr. Aldrige tries to keep her calm. I guess they are trying to enjoy the time they have together while it lasts. The new gardener has finally stopped asking questions and I stopped mocking him after a visit of his father. Andy used to work at Downton (I think I already told you so) and we had been, well not friends but good acquaintances back then. He came to pick up his son after work and stayed for some tea, asking me not to be too harsh on his son and believe it or not, I decided to do him the favour. Maybe I am growing soft, but Andy seemed so worried about his boy and so protective, I started feeling protective for him too. He is still a proper idiot, but he does good work and as long as he stops calling me twenty times a day to ask anything about plants I surely don't know, we'll get along just fine.

I'm up to nothing, frankly. Since I have just been to London as you might remember, I only have little freetime at the moment. There are no big dinners planned anytime soon but with the Crawley's, you never know. As long as it's not too busy, I try cleaning up the whine cellar and believe me, it needs to be cleaned. I inherited this room full of spiderwebs from Carson and I believe nobody ever cleaned it properly since the bloody mansion has been build. I always wanted to clean it because I hate unfinished business but since I am butler, valet and footman at once, I never found the time before.

Exciting, isn't it? 

Maybe I'll go to the cinema with Baxter again soon but she is in a gloomy mood at the moment because we're approaching another anniversary of Molesley's death. She usually wants to be left alone at this time of the year and I respect that.

So in the evenings it's me, your letters, the paper, cigarettes, leftover wine and books. I just started reading "The great gatsby". It made me remember those golden 1920s when everything seemed shiny and progressive and I was still young and hopeful to find my place in the world. Those times seem further away than just twenty years. 

Believe me when I say, Edward will always manage to make me grin.

Love

**Thomas**

P.S: I'll take good care of your watch until you return.   
  


* * *

 

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

the good news first: I will be allowed to leave the hospital next week. The fever is gone for good and I can finally walk again without grimacing in pain. My hand is quiet okay again as well and my wounds are healing great. I will still keep loads of scars all over my body but who returns from a war without scars? The bad news: I will most likely be send back in two weeks if I keep healing as quickly as I am. Until then, I'll stay at my nearly empty London appartement and eat up all my remaining savings. 

I want to apologize to you. Me being so cryptic is annoying for sure so I will just stop talking about it for now. But what I can tell you for sure: Neither did I murder anyone (apart from Germans at war but I guess that doesn't really count as murder) nor did I fall for any woman. And I feel like I have to add that I never really "fell" for Anstruther. She was an easy prey and my foolish younger self just grabbed the opportunity. I feel ashamed for that now but I can't change the past so why dwell on it.

I always knew that you could see right through me. Of course I am not half as self-confident as I like to act but did you ever meet anyone who doesn't doubt himself? Apart from Lady Mary, I mean?  


It breaks my heart to read about the way you see yourself. You must know by now that to me, nothing about "the way you are" is wrong. It's society who is wrong by making you feel that you don't belong. You are more of a man than many people I met in my life. You've been through so much already but never gave up. I admire that about you.

I wish I could do anything to make your loneliness end for good. I've told you weeks ago I wish you to be happy and I meant that. And once I get back, I will try to cast more than a small light on your shadow. I don't know if it will help, but I am willing to try.

Because you are right, Thomas. We are very much alike. We are different from the rest. We shared a connection from the very beginning and when you visited, I felt like it has only grown stronger with time. Having you with me really helped me. You are what is keeping me alive, Thomas Barrow. Within the last months, darkness has been closing around me more than once and it was always you or the thought of you that kept me going. 

I'm sorry to hear that Lady Rose's husband is going to be send back. I hope he won’t get hurt again.

  
That Andy-guy, did you like him? You mentioned him before but you didn’t sound particularly fond of him. He’s married to Daisy, right? Good to hear you’re getting along with the gardener now. And yes, you are growing soft. Or maybe you’ve never really been as harsh as you try to led people to believe. You were never anything but kind to me. Even when I was a horrible bitch.  
  
I’m sorry you sacrificed all your freetime for me. Another thing I will have to make up to you one day. You never told me you also had to carry the duties of a valet and a footman. I thought you always hated the idea of being a one-man-show. But that’s the way it is nowadays, isn’t it? Sounds very stressful though. I bet you’d need a proper holiday. One more reason to follow our travel plans rather sooner than later!

Did you find any nice forgotten fine wine at the cellar you could save up for us to drink in secret when I get back from war? Not that I knew a thing about wine. I’m more a man of cheap Ale and an occasional spirit. But maybe I have been missing out on something.

Maybe you shouldn’t leave Baxter alone. Grief is always shouldered better together with a friend. I know Molesley was an idiot, but maybe it would help her to talk a bit about him. All you’ve got to do is listen to her for a bit. Remind her of the good memories. It doesn’t make the loss go away, but it makes the sadness bearable. Believe me. I know what I’m talking about. I used to talk about my band with the other lads day in and day out at the trenches.

You sound bitter. You’re still halfway young (in comparison to Lord Grantham or Carson at least) and there’s still plenty of opportunity out there for you! Like traveling with me and seing the world, remember? I never read Gatsby. Is it any good? Perhaps you can send it to me once you finished it.

The 1920s weren’t that golden after all, were they? I mean yes, things seemed to get more liberal but actually the only thing that happened is that the rich got richer and the poor stayed stuck in their misery. But the parties, they were awesome. My bandmates used to know all the best places. I wish I could show them to you –I’m sure you would love them - but I don’t know if they exist any longer. London changed so much since the war started. Everybody always seems in constant panic. Even the other patients who have been through the horrors across the channel seem to be more afraid of an airstrike than of the possibility to be send back. Bloody fools.

I think I’ll try to go for a walk about the station, see how far I can make it before nurse Evans shooes me back to bed. She tries to appear very strict, but I think she only wants everybody to get better and is always very worried about all patients. She also seems to have some kind of a soft spot for me, I think. Always gets me a paper in the morning. She reminds me a lot of you. Though of course she is not as good looking.

Love,  
**Jimmy**


	18. Chapter eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy shares something about his past with Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is somehow my favorite chapter so far. It contains my headcanon for Jimmy's life after Downton and it was so much fun inventing it. I hope you like it.

** Chapter eighteen **

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I don’t know if I should be pleased or worried to hear that you get to leave the hospital so soon. Are you sure you are ready yet? Two weeks seem awfully little time to recover from injuries as serious as yours.

I’m not going to ask you whether I should come to visit you at London before you leave because I already know you’ll answer something like „Please don’t use more of your freetime up on me“. Just know that I’d love to. If you need any support money-wise, let me know. I would be glad to help you out.

Good to know you didn’t murder anyone or fall for a mischevious woman again. I’ll shut about your cryptic secret for now. But I promise I will get revenge for you being so secretive once you get back.

Believe it or not – even Lady Mary is a human being with insecurities. She just doesn’t admit them. Though her husband, Henry Talbot seems to have changed her a bit. She has grown soft. But not soft enough not to tell her daughter to never bring a soldier home until, and I quote „this bloody war s finally over“. Since her son is at the trenches, she gets furious if anyone even mentions the possibility that this war might still be going on for years. And when her daughter was caught eyeing a young soldier from the village on sickleave for a broken arm, Lady Mary held her an impressive speech that included more than one mention oft he term „war widow“. Talbot tried to calm her down, but he slept in his own bedroom that night so I guess he did not succeed.

Thank you for your kindness, Jimmy. It lifted my shadows today. It really did.

Mr. Aldrige is already back at the trenches, fighting for the Americans. Did I mention he and Rose moved to the USA quiet some time ago? Anyway Lady Rose decided to stay in England as long as her husband is at France. She says that way at least she gets to send him letters that need less than a couple of weeks to reach him. But I think she just does not want to be alone with her daughter in this times of worry. And who am I to blame her?

I liked Andy a lot. He was a kind young man, eager to make something of himself but lacking self-confidence. We had a difficult start since everybody advised him to stay away from me – guess why – but after saving my life, he started to relax and stopped seeing me as a thread. It helped that he fell for Daisy though. Everybody pushed him in her direction and therefore they probably thought I was no longer much of a danger to spoil the fine young man. As if I even wanted that. I was never even slightly attracted to him. But people tend to believe that people like me cannot simply like another man as a friend. Stupid, isn’t it? As if I was to desire every single man crossing my path. In fact, I desired only very few men in my life but people just don’t understand that. Anyway, to answer your question: Yes, I like Andy and he is married to Daisy with whom he runs a farm which’s tenancy they inherited from Mr. Mason, the father of Daisy’s deceased husband William. The one who fell at the great war and whom you replaced. And before you ask – I never liked William. It’s sad that he died long before his time, but I really never liked him at all. He wasn’t very bright. And I never were kind to him. Before I met you, I was rarely ever kind to anyone. Maybe it was you who made me change all those years ago.

You are right, I am a one-man-show these days but the golden days of houses full of servants are over. Most big houses have already been sold and most great families have dropped into poverty. Downton is still standing strong and the Crawleys remain a rich family but they could never afford as many servants as there used to be. And there’s also no need for them. We still could afford a footman though and we’d actually need one but as I already told you, nobody wants to be a servant anymore and I find that understandable. If I were young, I wouldn’t pick that career either.

I did find a very nice old bottle of wine I’m sure nobody even remembers anymore and I’m saving it up for the day you visit Downton. Even if you don’t know anything about wine, you’re going to like it. It’s an exquisite one. And if you don’t like it, you’ll just have to pretend you do because that wine is for sure very expensive and if anyone knew that I’m planning to drink it with you, I’d be in trouble. God, that makes me feel mischiveous and young again. I have to admit I missed that. I might have grown soft, but a bit of darkness will stay with me forever, I guess. And I like it that way.

I followed your advice, spend the last evening with Baxter and talked to her about Molesley over dinner. She cried a lot, but she also smiled and before she went to bed, she seemed way less gloomy than she did before. She even hugged me – a thing she usually only does at my birthdays and on christmas – and admitted she was surprised I even knew any nice things to say about Molesley. Because it turns out I remembered a lot of funny stories about him and I feel I no longer dislike them. He was a weird man, Molesley, but a nice one. Before leaving for bed, Baxter did a weird thing. She said that she is thankful for you. You, Jimmy. I don’t know what she meant, but I agree with her.

So Jimmy, tell me something about your band? How did you meet and what music did you play and what kind of guys were your friends? Share your memories with me. Maybe it helps you with your grief. And I would love to read all of your stories anyway.

Do you think nurse Evans has a thing going on for you? I mean I could not blame her. And she is a dashing young girl. Just don’t make her fall for you too hard before you get back from the war for good. That’d be unfair.

Love  
**Thomas**  
  
PS: I’m sending you The great Gatsby with this letter. It’s a good read. ~~Sometimes I feel a bit like I am Gatsby and you are my Daisy. I hope I am wrong.~~

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

I’m writing this letter sitting at the piano in my tiny, dusty flat. I finally got to leave the hospital so please send your next letter to the adress on the back oft he envelope. After that one, please don’t worry if I don’t reply immediately. I have to sort some business out in London berfore I get send back and will probably write you once I’m back on the other side of the channel.

I’m feeling better. My infection is gone, I can walk just fine again and apart from some smaller wounds still healing, I am as good as new. That might be an exaggeration, but I am fine enough to fight a war that needs every soldier available.

I just tried playing a bit and I have to admit it made me sadder than I thought it would. Not just because my left hand is pretty useless and I can barely play a melody fast enough this way but because I played it alone.

I had not played the piano since my last gig with the band. I didn‘t touch it’s keys since the very day they died and I never felt that part of me that died with them that day as intense as I did playing again in this empty flat. It was the first time I couldn’t run towards a bullet from my loneliness and it scared me enough to buy some cheap spirit and drink too much of it.

I wish I could ask you to come to London. You don’t know how much. But I think I have to be alone for a couple of days before I get back in the field. Maybe just to proof to myself that I can stand it and to sort my thoughts. Thank you for offering to help me out, but I could never take money from you. And since I am going to sell my bandmates‘ instruments while I am in London, I will have enough money to get through until the end of the war. That must seem heartless, I know, but I cannot stare at them standing in this bloody flat, layered in dust and unplayed. They are not the instruments the lads usually played during our shows, just the practice-equipment (we used to practice at my place because all of my neighbours are half-deaf), but they are good quality. And I know the lads would understand that I can’t keep them. At least I hope they would. If I were the one that died, I wished they burned down my piano.

Lady Mary sounds very different from the women I remember her to have been. Age seems to have changed us all. Maybe it is true that one grows wiser with the years. At least I like to think so. Her husband must be an interesting man if he tamed her so much. Maybe Lady Mary is right to try to keep her daughter from falling for a soldier. It ain’t the cleverest thing to do these days, is it? There’s always the risk of grief with loving a soldier but then again, when is there no risk for grief in love?

I will try to lift that shadow whenever you need me to. Just tell me if I can help you and I will.

So Lady Rose is basically an American now? Her Ladyship must love that. And a free spirit like Rose seems to fit to the USA, right? America – I always wanted to visit that place. It sounds so full of promises of freedom and change. Like a place where you have nothing to lose because nobody knows you. Maybe it’s one of those places we could think about visiting one day. I met some Americans at the war and they were always funny, nice guys. Hard to understand sometimes and a little over-optimistic. But maybe that’s because most of them joined the war way later than any of our own soldiers. I’ve met englishmen in the field who had survived Dunkirk only to get shipped back again and again and again.

I’m very sorry if I gave you the feeling that you would have to justify your friendship with Andy. I never thought what those other stupid people might think. Of course you can be friends with other men. You were my best friend back in the Downton Days. And I am so sorry I was part of the reason those idiots felt like they had to „protect“ anyone from you. It’s so silly it makes me angry. As if you could „spoil“ anyone simply by liking them. I hope you don’t let this bullshit get to you.  
  
What did you mean by saying that Andy saved your life? Is that about the darkness in your past that you don’t want to tell me about?

And I don’t believe that I had anything to do with you being kind. Yes, you were always kind to me while you were mean to others but I was never the only person you were kind to. The way you always cared for the upstairs kids showed everybody that you are a kind man if you feel that somebody deserves your kindness. You only give it to people who earned it by not judging you and I think that’s fair. Anna once told me how much you cared for the deceased Lady Sybil. And the biggest proof oft hem all: You forgave me and showed kindness when I deserved none. You might be a hard shell to crack but please don’t act as if I was  the only one to ever crack it. I don’t deserve that praise.

Isn’t it funny that when we were young, life as a servant seemed like a big chance while nowadays, people don’t want to pursue that career any longer? I never really wanted to be a servant when I was young, but now I think it’s kind of sad. Servants always worked hard and most of them had passion for their job – like you. To disregard that isn’t fair. But I can still understand that young people want to be free and life as a servant makes you feel anything but free, I guess.

Can you imagine Carson if somebody told him Downton would one day have a Butler that serves as a valet and footman too? I bet he is turning in his grave right now. Is it even manageable? It sounds like an awful lot of work. I hope they pay you better than in the olden days at least since you do the job of at least three people now.  
  
I’m looking forward to that wine you „lend“ from the whine cellar. Good to know there’s still plenty of mischiev in you. I always liked that side of you.

I think what you did for Baxter is one of the greatest things one can do for a friend. Being there.

I see what you are trying to do and I can’t help but thank you. I would love to tell you everything about my band one day because I could write pages and pages and pages on end about them. I loved them. They were my family. My home. I cannot tell you everything now because that’d be a too long walk down memory lane but I will tell you something I remembered today, when I played the piano.

We were a weird bunch. Four guys who couldn’t have been more different. Alan and George, our Singer and our bass player, two very funny and creative lads who were madly in love with each other and not very shy about it – at least at spaces where they felt save. Of course that was a risky thing to do and I believe both of them had been beaten up for it before, but they were to proud to hide away. And Alfie, who played the drums and was a very shy and private person. And me. Loud, selfish Jimmy. We started out with just the three of us, Alan, George and Jimmy after they basically picked me up at a bar one night when they heard me play the piano. They pretty much started the conversation by asking me if I minded that they were together and when I shrugged and said no, they hired me on the spot. Alfie joined later when Alan decided that we needed „more rhythm“. We found him with the help of an advert asking „open minded young folks with quick hands at the drums“ to audition for us at the very flat I am sitting in right now. George, who had been raised by his rich uncle that bought him everything just to make him stay away from home, had even bought a set of drums yet. So Alfie got here, Alan and George sat on the sofa holding hands and I lay on top of my piano, half-dozing with a hangover from the night before and he just sat down and played fucking well and we just nodded and he smiled and that was that. From that day on, we were unseperable. We had months when we played nearly every night at another London pub or club or bar and sometimes we were bloody brilliant and sometimes, when we drank too much, we were horrible. But we always had fun. There were no secrets in that weird family of ours, no lies. We fought a lot beause sometimes, we were a little to honest with each other, but we always made up again and had a good laugh. They were my weird, loud, overly attached, demanding, crazy brothers. And I miss them every fucking day.

When I found out they died, I thought my life was over. When I dug out that corpses from the ruins oft hat bloody pub, I wished I had died with them. I felt like that for a vey long time, to be honest. But now I feel thankful that I ever even had them in my life. And I am thankful that I did not die with them that night or that day at the trenches when the grenade exploded in front of me. I feel like I have to live my life as courageous as I can now. For them. And I will never forget about the good times we had and I will forever be sad they are over. They will always stay a part of me that hurts. But since I received your first letter, I know that loss is not all I have.

I don’t sound like me, do I? Well I blame it on the rain and the memories and the ale I had at the pub at lunch and the cheap whiskey I’m still drinking despite it tasting awful. Or maybe I am just a sentimental old man sitting on his piano and trying not to cry like a girl. Which I already did, to be honest. It was kind of cleansing.

Speaking of girls. I’m sure nurse Evans had a thing for me but I quickly made clear that she is not to expect anything from a guy like me. She is a sweet girl, but I am not interested. She understood that. And a day after she did, I think she fell for a guy two beds from mine with a bad head injury. If he makes it, he won’t be send back for sure. They will marry and have loads of annoying children and maybe she will force her husband to name one of them James and he will never know why.

I think I’ll start reading The great Gatsby now. It’s getting late but I am not tired and within all that rain and fog outside, there is no moon I could stare at tonight.

I hope you are well and am looking forward to your next letter.

Love  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is getting a little sentimental, but what shall I say? That's the way I write and I hope you don't mind ^^


	19. Chapter nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas confesses something to Jimmy and Jimmy gets back to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is still burning inside a horrible heatwave. Me.  
> It hasn't bloody rained or cooled down in ages and I believe I will just have to settle with living in the vulcano once called Germany.  
> So therefore, I spend most of my freetime after work on the outside or lying on the sofa next to the fan without movement or in swimmingpools or inside the shower. If I could, I'd climb into the fucking fridge. Anyway...what I want to say by telling you that is that I'm not really making lots of progress writing this at the moment because my brain is melting so there might be a slight hiatus coming and I apologize.
> 
> Also another thing: I miscalculated the age of Jimmy and Thomas when I started writing this. I imagine that Jimmy was 19 when he first came to Downton and with Thomas being 10 years older that means they have to be 43 and 53 in 1944. I don't now why, but I wrote that wrong in the beginning so there is a fixup for that mistake in the following chapter and I hope you don't mind too much. I promise to do better research and proofreading in the future.  
> Anyway. Here is the next chapter.  
> I'll be off to cry for rain next to the fan.

Chapter nineteen

**Dear Jimmy,**

you sounded very sad in your last letter but I can understand that. It must be hard being alone again after such a long time. I understand you need time to think and to sort things out. But please, if you should ever feel like loneliness is getting too much and you want some other company than booze - I am only a couple of hours away.

 

I bet your bandmates would have understood that you are selling their pratice-instruments. Instruments need to be played, right? And since they are no longer around to play them, finding a new owner for the instruments is a way to keep music alive, I think. I understand that you can't stand the sight of them. Sometimes memories hurt but from my experience, that hurt gets better with time. Memories that used to hurt often turn into your most beloved ones later - even if they are bittersweet. So please think about it before you give all the things that remind you of your friends away. You might eventually miss them one day.

Maybe you should not give up the piano after all. It might seem unbearable to keep playing at the moment with all the sad memories and your injured hand, but the piano was such an important part of your life before. Doesn’t mean giving it up that you’re giving up a part of yourself? I understand you want to quit being a musician, but maybe playing for yourself will help you to reminiscent what you lost? Maybe the piano can help you grief. Because I think there is no shame in grieving. Loss is to be felt and there will never be enough booze or distraction in the world to shove it away. When my father died I tried to shove my griev away because that man really didn’t deserve my sadness about his passing. But it didn’t work. I only got over it when I admitted to myself how sad I was that we never made up before he died. I can’t change that, but at least I stopped lying to myself. I was breaking a habit there, so to speak.

  
I have to admit I was a bit worried to read that you felt like this is the first time you cannot run away from yourself „running towards a bullet“. Are you okay? Because if you’re planning on getting hit by any bullet again, I might as well choose my own gravestone now. I will not survive another letter telling me that private James Edward Kent has been severely injured. If you do that ever again, I will drag your stupid ass back to England with my own hands.

  
Lady Mary really did change, but at the same time, she is still stubborn and slightly arrogant. Or at least she tries to appear that way. You are right. Falling for a soldier is the most stupid, heart-endangering thing there is but love is always risky. And the heart wants, what the heart wants. There is no fighting it with reason.

  
Lady Rose is very american now, you are right. And it suits her. His lordships acts as if he were quiet shocked about her sometimes very liberal ideas, but I guess in secret, he is proud that she became such a strong woman. And her ladyship of course loves to hear all of Lady Rose’s stories about her homecountry. Sometimes she gets a look on her face as if she wanted to go home. I would like to see America again one day. I liked it when  I went there ages ago with Lord Grantham. But I doubt it can keep all those promises of freedom and liberty nowadays.  
  
You did not give me the feeling that I had to justify myself. It simply is a reflex. Thank you for being one of the very few people to understand that loving men doesn’t mean loving every man.

  
I feel like a liar not telling you about it after all the things we shared within our letters though I wished I could have told you in person rather than within a letter. Andy, Baxter, Anna and Mrs. Hughes saved me at a day when I tried to end my life. I will not tell you how or why I did it back then. It’s in the past. And believe me when I say that I will never ever try anything like that again. I learned my lesson to cherish life, no matter what it throws at me.

  
You are the first person to ever think me to be kind. But you seem to see me different than anybody else anyway. Maybe because you know me better than anyone else I ever met. Even though we’ve spend most of our lives apart, I feel like you understand me better than the people I live with every day. And I am thankful. I never felt understood before. But you are glorifying me a bit. I did horible things in the past of which I am not proud and if I could go back, I would change them. I caused many people lots of problems and I shouldn’t have done that.

 

I think in twenty years there will no longer be any servants, no more butlers. The life I lived will quickly turn into something that can only be found in books about history. I find that sad and fascinating at the same time. I am a dying breed. But it’s kind of exciting to see the world changing so fast around me. I only hope it will be changing for the better. I hope this war and the horrors the Germans spread over the world will soon be over.

  
I’m sure Carson is frequently turning in his grave. He would have hated how I am administering things these days. But he was never a man of change so maybe it is for the best he didn’t witness more of it than he did.

  
Of course there is still mischief in me. I am still Thomas Barrow after all, am I not?

  
I wish I could do more for Baxter. She still seems very blue. I think I will ask Anna if she has any ideas that could cheer her up.  
  
I loved reading about the way your band got together. I'm sure you had great times and I wish I could've seen you perform together. You must have been a nice bunch to be around. They sound like they have been great people and I'm looking forward to hear all the stories you have to tell about them. I must admit I am quiet fascinated by reading about the courage of Alan and George. I never met any men who publically admitted loving each other or even dared to live as a couple. I always thought that would be impossible and far too dangerous. It's not like I didn't know that within the London nightlife where a lot of things possible for one night but these places rarely ever promised love. But maybe I just never met the right people. I've got to say I envy your Alan and George. They found love against the odds. A rare thing, isn't it?

 

What kind of music did you guys play? Something just to listen or something to dance? And were you popular around town? I think it must have been exciting to do what you love with the people you loved every night. 

You are more than a sad old man at a piano, Jimmy. You are a brave soldier and a good man in his best years. Look at me, I am turning fifty-three in a couple of months (yes, I lied about my age in an earlier letter. I might be a bit vain after all). My best days are over, but yours still lie ahead. There is plenty of time for you to fill with more cheerful memories. And enough time to always remember your friends. They will always stay with you, whatever happens.  


Poor nurse Evans. Awfully nice of you to let her off your hook. You’ve really grown up.

 

I have to close now because I am heading to Anna’s for tea and villagers gossip (me and my exciting life, right?) after lunch.

 

I hope your passage back to the frontlines will be safe. Be careful in the field and stay away from exploding grenades this time. I might not be much of a prayer and I doubt god even listens to me should he exist, but I’ll pray for you to come back in one piece this time.  
  
Love,  
**Thomas**  
  
PS: I hope you enjoyed Gatsby. If so, I can send you more of Fitzerald’s books.

 

* * *

 

 

**Dear Thomas,**

I’m back at my soldier’s life so please send your next letters to the address on the envelope.

My passage to the front was unexpectedly safe and calm. We seem to have won plenty of ground while I was back in England and I might even start to believe that the Germans can be defeated after all.

Thank you for being so understanding. You are right, I was sad. It turned out I needed that time on my own though. I followed your – very good – advice and allowed myself to finally grief. It’s been years since that night I lost my mates but I always swallowed my sadness and kept myself busy because I was afraid that as soon as I’d let it, sadness would break me. Fortunately I was wrong and it didn’t. So I went to visit their graves and allowed myself to forget about my dumb pride and cry. I spend quiet some time on the cemetery, cleaning their gravestones. Their living families don’t seem to care much about them any longer. There were only rotten flowers on their graves so I took care of that as well. It seems like they weren’t just my only caring family but I was also theirs. If I should not return from war, can you do me the favour of checking their resting places every now and then when you happen to be in London?

I understand what you said about your father. My parents were very loving people and losing them hurt. I imagine it must be even worste to lose a parent without making peace with him. If  your father could, I bet he would regret it too. And if he wouldn’t, that’d only show how little he knew the real you.

I sold all the instruments to a man owning a store for used instruments. Including the piano. I can nearly hear you sigh writing this but believe me, I had good reasons. First of all, I needed the money to pay some outstanding debts. Second, you are right that I should not turn my back on the piano but I had to turn my back on that one. It was too painful to play it on my own. I could not bear it. And third, once I get back from the war – and I am trying to stay optimistic I will because lightning never hits the same tree twice – I will have to move out of my flat and find something cheaper and moving with a piano is a bloody nightmare. I will for sure own a piano again one day because you are right, playing it is a part of me I do not want to leave behind. And until then, I’ll just visit Dowton and play that bloody old servants piano and practice to use my left hand again. You wouldn’t mind, would you?

I kept some other things reminding me of the old times, though. I still have George’s notebook full of notes and lyrics of the own songs we used to play. And I kept Alfie’s drumsticks and the ugly bowtie Alan used to wear during our performances. The notebook I took with me to France, the rest I stuffed away under my bed to wait for my return. Without you, I would have probably sold the drumsticks and burned the bowtie and the notebook. I’m glad I didn’t. Keeping those things lets the past seem more real.

I’m no longer willing to run towards any bullets. I’m willing to duck from them and fire back. I just had a gloomy day when I last wrote you and believe me, that grenade taught me my lesson to be more careful this time around.

Nobody can fight his own heart, you are right. ~~I had to learn this the hard way.~~ And why should anyone fight it if the battle cannot be won anyway?

Thank you for being so honest with me. If I were back at home, I think your last letter would hava made me purchase a ticket straight to Downton. I hate to think that you once were sad enough to try and take your own life but believe me, I am not judging you. I’ve thought about that horrible possibility myself back in the days after the blitz. I just wished I could have been there to help you back then. If I had been any help at all. I cannot believe I haven’t been there for you when you clearly needed a friend all those years ago. But I am glad somebody else was there to save you. I am so very thankful you did not succeed. I wouldn’t ever want to imagine a world without you. I believe you when I say that you will never try to do it again but if you ever feel so very desperate again for whatever reason, write me or call me or send a bloody telegram and I will be there as fast as I can. I’d even desert the fucking army, you hear me? And if I cannot help you with what’s making you sad, I will at least be there to hold your hand like you held mine when I was a feverish mess.

Maybe I am just the first person to dare look past you masquerade. Just like you seem to be one of the few people to ever see me for who I am, to ever believe that I am more than a vain, selfish idiot. I feel apart from my late friends, you are the only one who ever understood me. As you once put it, we are quite a pair.

I completely forgot that you have already been to America once. How was it? As colorful and loud and modern as I imagine it? Or am I dreaming of a fairytale?

I’m sure I am not the only person to ever think that you are kind. The Crowley’s must know you are less of a hard shell than you appear to be by now. And everyone has some regrets in the past. I don’t know a single man that hasn’t done anything horrible in his life. You don’t want to know how many horrible things I have done since the beginning of this war. How many men I’ve killed in cold blood because they happened to fight for the enemy. Of course that is what war is always like and there is no way around it since they are fighting for a horrible dictator and are guilty but…all of them were somebody’s son. Somebody’s lover maybe. Somebody’s father. And sometimes when I think about it for too long, their dead eyes haunt me in my dreams. Maybe that’s the price soldiers have to pay for the freedom of our world.

If you could turn back time, would you decide against a servant‘s life? Even though you might be one of the last men standing in your profession I believe you are more than living history. You influenced the lives of so many people. You belong to the Crawleys as they belong to you and I’m sure the young generation will tell their grandchildren about the people they grew up around. And one of them was you. I doubt they will remember me though, but that’s okay. Maybe some London girls will tell their daughters stories about a handsome piano-player they once saw at a bar.

Yes, you are Thomas Barrow after all. Thank god you are.

Did Anna come up with any new ideas to cheer Baxter up? Maybe she needs to try and meet somebody new? Of course that wouldn’t fix the loss but maybe it would take her mind off Molesley? Are there any good fellas left at the village anyway?

Alan and George truly were courageous people. Their life was difficult sometimes, yes. And we occasionally got into fights with people spitting at them or calling them names or other bad stuff. But they allways found a way to deal with it and they lived every moment to the fullest. I learned a lot from them. And Alfie too. Though he sadly has always been to shy to confess his feelings to the barmaid of that one pub where we played frequently. He looked at her with such amazement, yet he never made a move. We tried to convince him more than once but now he’s dead and the girl is married.  

We played Jazz, mostly. Some swing as well. And sometimes older pieces the audience requested. Something for drunken pub-visitors to sing along to, you know? We always finished the nights with classical music though. A tradition I created because I always loved playing Schubert and Debussy and stuff. Those melodies have always been my escape to wherever my mind wanted to take me. So I convinced the lads to let me close our gigs with some of those classic tunes on my own. Most of the time, people fell asleep during that piano-only bit but the ones who managed to stay awake got that dreamy look in their eyes and that’s what I loved most about being a musician. Seeing how notes can move people. It’s a truly magical thing to witness. When I had a more courageous day, I even played one of my own compositions. Not that they are any good. But I like writing music. It’s like a special language without words.

You’re turning 53? When is your birthday? It’s a shame I don’t know that after all those years. I would never have guessed that you lied when you said you were younger. You look way younger than you are. But it gives me some satisfaction that I was right about our age-difference. I turned 43 a couple of months ago. Though I still like to tell people that I’m 39. Just to see if they buy it. They mostly do actually. Maybe we both have a slight problem with aging, eh?

I finished reading Gatsby on the ferry and I liked it. It’s terribly sad but I like sad books. Don’t know why but I do. Please send me another one of this Fitzgerald’s books if you can.

By the way that reminds me that you forgot to take the other books you lend me back with you when you were visiting me. I read Moby Dick at the hospital and though I am a lover of the sea…I wasn’t that much into it. It was too long and that Captain Ahab…I found him quiet annoying, to be honest. I stored the books in my flat and will return them to you when I get back. I hope that is okay?

Tomorrow will be my first day back in the field. I got placed in my old’s seargent new unit because he specifically asked for me to be put back under his command. My old comrades are all gone though. They are either dead or injured at home. I’m trying to get to know my new comrades but they are a very close bunch with a „we don’t like newbies‘ attitude. It’s understandable. I used to hate newbies as well. They had a bad habit of dying. But they don’t know I’m not really new to all this and I think we’ll get along just fine in no time.

We’re leaving the camp before dawn in the morning and it’s getting late so I better try and catch some sleep.

Please tell me how things are at Downton.

Love  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you still enjoy this. I know it's a veeeeery slow burn but there will be some kind of a fire one day. I promise ;)


	20. Chapter twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has the flu and Jimmy worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heatwave is finally coming to an end and I am no longer melting away! It's still pretty warm but no longer too hot to think so I won't complain any longer :)  
> Anyway: I wrote two new chapters and here's the first one.  
> I hope you'll enjoy it.

Chapter Twenty

**Dear Jimmy** ,

how are you? Save and sound, I hope. Are you making any progress? How long do you think this war will go on?

I’m actually writing you from my bed. I caught the flu – maybe during one of my smokebreaks in the bloody cold – and they organised a stand-in for me until I stop sneezing and coughing for good. I spend the last two days sleeping with fever but I’m starting to feel better and I am so incredibly bored. I hate lying around doing nothing. It’s like I’m not made for rest.

How very courageous of you to bear up against your grief. I’m proud of you, if I may say that. And yes, I will take care of your friend’s graves shoud anything happen to you. But nothing will happen to you.

My father very well knew the real me and chose to hate it. I used to hate him for hating me but it’s hard to keep hating people once they are dead. He wasn’t a very good father and I think he never loved me for who I am but I decided to forgive him. It’s a better feeling than carrying around all that bitter old hate.

It must have been hard for you to lose your parents that early in your life. But you still grew up to be a fine man. I’m sure they would be very proud of their son.

I did sigh while reading about you selling your piano (and then I coughed for a good while because of this bloody flu), but I understand you. And of course you can always play the Downton-piano. ~~I would love it if there were a reason in the house for you to visit frequently.~~  Even though a three-hour trainride might be a little long for some piano-practice. So maybe you will have to get yourself a new one sooner or later.

Thank you, Jimmy. For being so understanding and supportive. And please know that I would always be there for you should your dark thoughts return. Because as you might already know I don’t want to imagine a world without you too.

Yes, we are quiet a pair. Although I have to admit I’m surprised you remember I ever said that. That was a lifetime ago, shortly after you came to Downton. But I still think it to be true.

America was an exciting, very loud and very crowded place as far as I remember. Of course I did not see that much of it because I was working but I remember all those big lights in the streets and lots of cinemas and theatres. It was a bit like London but with a very different atmosphere. People were minding their own business and much less elegant. But also less…I don’t know how to put it….classisistic. Nobody cared that I was just a butler. They shared the same politeness (and often impoliteness, to be honest) with me and Lord Grantham. To them, we were equals. I found that quiet fascinating. Carson would have hated it. I’m sure you would love it.

I have only been a corpsman during the last war so I never shot anyone but I understand that even though you are serving a righteous duty, you feel bad about it. Of course those men were somebody’s loved ones but they chose their path, didn’t they? And there is only fighting and surviving at war. Either you kill them or they kill you. And as lomg as it is that way, I prefer them to die instead of you.

The things I did in my life were different. I told myself for many years that I did them to survive but I was just cruel. I envied every person for the slightest bits of hapiness so I tried to destroy all of it. I was a resentful man. I hope I no longer am like that today.

I always liked being a servant but if I had the chance to chose again today, I would pursue a different career. Maybe as a tailor. I always liked fabrics and well-dressed people.

I’m sure a lot of London girls will always remember you with a blush and a dreamy look in their eyes.

Anna introduced Baxter to their lonely old neighbor and even though Baxter started writing him out of pitty – he lost his wife about a year ago – they are now writing each other frequently and have long walks on the weekend and I think they are good company for each other. I caught her smiling a lot recently and I think she likes him. And you played a part in making her smile. I told Anna about your idea to let her meet somebody new and that made her come up with the idea to introduce Baxter to Mr. Shaw. So even though Baxter doesn’t know about the advise you gave us to help her I think I should be allowed to give you her thanks.

You will have to play some of the things you and your bandmates used to play for me. Especially the classical pieces you seem to love so much. I want to understand the magic you are talking about. I would also love to hear any of the pieces you wrote yourself. I’m curious to hear what they might reveal about you.

I am turning 53 in june. And stop complaining about your age. You can watch what is coming for you in ten years time by looking at me! Aching backs and flus that feel so much worse than when I was young.

Your birthday is in early august, isn’t it? That means I am even more than ten years older. Thank you for making me feel like a bloody mummy. But at least one that doesn’t look it.

I send you „The beautiful and damned“ by Fitzgerald with this letter. It’s a very sad book – even though it is also funny – so I guess you might like it. I share your preference for sad books. I feel like they have more dephts.

Feel free to send the books back whenever you want to or keep them as long as you like. I read them all already anyway.

So how are you getting along with your new comrades? I’m sure your seargent is glad to have you back. He wrote that you saved his life when he noted me about your injury.  
And how is your hand?

I cannot believe we are already approaching christmas in two weeks. The year seems to have passed awfully fast. I guess you will not be allowed to get home over the holidays, will you? If you were, I would invite you to come to Downton. You could keep your promise of serving as a stand-in footman for the sake of the olden days and we could celebrate a bit.

I hope I will be back on my feet soon. I have a lot to organise for christmas because the family is planning a huge christmas celebration even though George, Mr. Aldrige and Sibyl’s husband won’t be able to come home either. Lady Mary has been writing furious letters to the authorities for weeks. I guess she does not really understand that her title doesn’t mean anything in this war. Anyway, I still have to organise for decorations and find an assistant chef to help our cook and wrap tons of gifts and find the right tree…my fever better hurries away.

Oh and I’ve got some interesting gossip for you: Lady Sybil is pregnant. Apparently the young folks really used their wedding night. Mr. Banson is panicking a bit because of her pregnancy and even though she doesn’t look the slightest bit pregnant yet, he nurses her as if she was sick and frequently sends her to see a doctor. But who would judge him for it after what happened to his wife while giving birth to their daughter? He just wants to proect her. (Actually, his worry is one of the reasons I got banned from working until my flu is gone for good. He was afraid I could infect Sybil.). Sybil wants to go back to university after the holidays and now they are arguing about that day in day out. It’s a proper Downton drama. Baxter tells me Sibyl often gives furious monologues about her overcaring father before going to bed.

I think I better go back to sleep now. My head is starting to ache.  
  
Love  
**Thomas**

 

* * *

 

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

please tell me you defeated the flu. I’m a bit paranoid when it comes to illnesses since I lost my mother to the spanish flu when she was even younger than you are now. But I’m sure you are good again, aren’t you. Please be reasonable and stay in bed as long as you feel ill. Your health matters more than a perfect Downton Christmas. Allow Baxter to do some of the organising while you recover. If you don’t nurse this properly and catch a pneumonia, I will get back to England to slap some sense into you, you hear me? I know I might be overreacting but my mother had been out of bed and ‚feeling just fine‘ the very day she died and I just want you to be careful. One never knows, right?

I’m fine. We are making steady progress but of course I cannot tell you exactly where I am now or what I am doing. I will tell you everything about my miserable frontline-adventures when I get back.

I rescued a dog two days ago. He had been left to die at an abandoned village. He was Skinny to the bone and nearly starved, that poor animal, and caught in the crossfire. When I got the chance, I got him behind cover and took him back to our camp once we had cleared the village from the Germans. I called him Nick. After Nick Carraway in that Gatsby book. Because he had to watch a tragedy and survived. He feeds of our little foodwaste and seems to be getting a little stronger every day. The other lads wanted me to shoot him but I would never let them and the seargent backed me up. I guess he knew he owed me one for saving him from that bloody grenade. Nick is very anxious and I’m not sure if he’ll survive but I have hope he will. And he likes me. He slept on my feet on his very first night at the camp and I think this is becoming a bit of a routine. Yesterday, he came storming when I came back to the campf from a fight and barked until I petted him. I have no idea, what race he is…something like a labrador-mixture I believe, but we’ll be good friends. At least as long as we’re around here. I won’t be able to take him with me when we move onwards. But I’ll find someone to take good care of him.

If my father hadn’t died when I was still half a kid, I’m sure we would have had our problems too. He would have never approved of the life I lived or the choices I made let alone the man I’ve become. Only thing he would have liked about me is going to war. Fathers are always proud of the weirdest things, but never for the right reasons. Mine loved me but had a weird way of showing it. He always applauded me when I climbed a particularly high tree and then scolded me when I fell from a branch and cried over my bleeding knees. Maybe fathers are only ever allowed to be proud of their sons in secret. Your father should have been proud of you and maybe in secret he was. Did he ever hurt you? I just understood that I know next to nothing about your time before Downton. What about your mother? Did your parents advise you to become a servant?  
  
Anyway, I find it very noble of you to choose forgiveness over grudges. It’s something I cannot do. If I hate, I hate. I still hate Alfred for example. It’s irrational, but I can’t stop myself.

Good we had that clarified. None of us is ever going to do anything stupid without alerting the other to help him. It’s a good pact, I believe.

Of course I remember that you called us „quiet a pair“. ~~It was that night you kissed me~~. I still remember everything about that day and night as clearly as it had been yesterday. And before you start apologizing about that night again I’ll tell you that you don’t need to. You really don’t. Only thing you have to apologize for is assuming that I’m forgetful.

America stays on the travel-list then, I suppose. I love thinking of  it as a place where class doesn’t matter. I mean what is that even supposed to be, ‚class‘? It’s nothing but pure luck into what life we are born. And I believe no man is better than any other. Don’t get me wrong, I am no socialist. I don’t really know what socialism is, just that England apparently thinks it to be just as dangerous as fascism. I don’t think society will ever turn around and we’ll all be happy equals but it’d be nice if people could stop bowing for inherited titles one day. Cause I think it’s ridiculous nowadays.

Be thankful that you never had to kill. I hate it. Everything about it. Even though I have to do it to survive and to fulfill my duty and avenge my friends and save bloody Europe…I hate it. It maked me sick to shoot at other human beings, as evil as they might be.

Lovely to hear that Baxter seems to have found a kindred spirit! Well done by Anna to mate them up. Maybe she will find hapiness after all. I think it’s never too late for that, do you?

I’ll play for you whatever you want but please keep in mind that I will still be handicapped. My hand is still very stiff. I can manage pulling triggers and throwing grenades (far enough away, don’t worry), but letting my fingers dance over the keys of a piano...we’ll see how good I can manage that after a bit of practice on your old Downton-piano.

June is still ages away so you’re still young 52 for a good while, aren’t you? What is the exact date? I want to keep it in mind. My birthday is in August, yes. It’s the tenth.

Thanks for the new book. I’ll start reading it as soon as I can. At the moment, I’m just too tired.   
  
My new comrades accepted me after one of them walked in on me having a shower and came to see the landscape of ugly scars on my body. He looked at me with wonder and must have gossiped about it because a couple of hours later I heard the seargent tell them about my ‚heroism‘ and ever since then, they treat me with far more respect than I deserve. The youngest member of our squad even volunteered to clean my boots (I think he actually lost a bet about the reason for my scars) and who am I to keep him from doing it if he adores dirt so much?

If you hadn’t reminded me of it, I bet I would have forgotten that christmas is approaching. One loses track of time here. Unfortunately I cannot leave until this war is won so I cannot accept your invitation to Downton for the holidays. If I could, I would.

I hope someone helps you with all the festive preparations and you get to have a nice christmas yourself.

Young Sybil really made her wedding night count then. Did her mother die giving birth to her? That would make Branson’t behaviour understandable. Anyway, I am sure you love the upstairs-drama.

I have to close now. We are moving out soon and I have to feed Nick before we do.

I hope you are well.

Love  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be some backstory an Thomas' Pre-Downton-Past. I always disliked how Fellowes never let us discover anything about his past so I wrote down my headcanon.


	21. Chapter twenty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas shares his past before Downton with Jimmy and Jimmy doesn't know what to say.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As already announced, this chapter features an insoght of my headcanon of Thomas' parentage and growing up. It's dark, but I felt like I had to let Thomas share something about his past with Jimmy.

Chapter Twenty-one

**Dear Jimmy** ,

first of all: calm down. I had the flu, not the plague. I understand you gained negative experiences with the flu but I just had an ordinary one. It was really nothing and you don’t need to worry. I’m still caughing every now and then but apart from that, I am dandy, as you’d call it. Before you come to slap me: I asked Baxter to assist me with the Christmas organisations and am taking it slow. Although I have to admit it is sort of cute of you to worry about me.

It’s nice to hear that you found a loyal companion in this dog. Nick is a great name. I very much liked the character of Carraway in the novel, so I guess your dog must be great. I’m sure someone will take him under his wing once you have to get moving. Just try to enjoy his company while you can.

I’m sure your father would have been proud of you anyway. You said that your parents had been loving. What reason would they have not to be proud of the man that you became? But I agree with you about fathers having a weird way of showing affection. The only times my father was proud of me were those when I managed helping him repair a particularly badly broken watch. He’d shower me with praise then so I practised every night in his workshop, trying to improve my skills because they were the only thing he ever liked about me. When I say he hated me, I mean it. I knew very early on in my life that I was not like the others and I made the mistake of letting my parents discover it. My mother simply tried to „cure“ me from it by inviting pretty girls over and praying manically for me to become normal again, but my father tried to beat it out of me. Every single time he saw me looking at another male for a second too long, he’d drag me behind the house by my elbow and beat the shit out of me. The older I grew, the angrier he got. I tried to be the son he wanted me to be, but I couldn’t. The village I grew up in was very small and rumours were spreading and my father hated being talked about because of his foul son. So one day after I had already been beaten up by some of the village boys for simply lifting my gaze from the floor when I walked past them, my father saw me crying and dragged me behind the house again and this time he beat me with a stick instead of his fists. The minute I felt my nose breaking under his first swing, I knew I had to leave bevor he got a chance to kill me. After he had bruised me enough, he spit on my face that I was trying to hide in the dried out grass of our backyard and went back inside the house, cursing at my mother for being too soft on me. He blamed her for me being a failure and I listened to them fighting until I could control my pain enough to stand up. I walked away as fast as I could and hid in the nearby woods until nightfall. Then I broke into my own house like a bloody thief, packed my belongings and ran away. I was fourteen years old. I took every job I could get – from shovelling horseshit to delivering goods - until I had gathered enough references to apply as a footman at Downton. Mr. Carson eyed me with a look in his eyes that reminded me of my father and I instantly knew he’d never accept me but he still hired me. Why he did that, I still don’t know. A couple of years later, when I had made it to be the first footman, a letter reached me, telling me my mother had died. It was from my father who had somehow found me. So I went to the funeral and I greeted him with a fake smile and acted as if I were a changed man and bragged about that maid I was going to marry one day in a desperate attempt to make him love me. He didnt. But from then on, he occasionally wrote me and shortly before he died, he apologized for breaking my nose that night all those years ago. After he died, I decided to forgive him. After all, he simply didn’t know better. I am tired of hating him because it makes me hate myself for trying to make him love me. It’s complicated. But it’s okay. It’s in the past.

I never actually told anyone about all this before. Not even O’Brien. She only knew that my parents and me didn’t like each other. To be honest, I never thought I would tell anyone. I haven’t thought about it in years. But I felt you needed to know this.

Keep on hating Alfred if you feel like it. It means you stay true to yourself. That’s not a bad thing.

I agree to that pact. But only if you don’t dare to get hurt again over there.

I have to admit I am surprised to hear you remember everything about that day. I thought you would have tried to eliminate the memory and I would have understood it.

Careful, Jimmy, you sound like a pacifistic liberal. Don’t let your authorities ever hear you speak like that. They could mistake you for a revolutionary and that would only get you into trouble. But I do understand what you mean although I do not fully agree. But that discussion is something for a personal conversation in front of a fireplace, not one on paper.

Baxter is visiting her new companion as we speak so I think maybe she is finding love after all. She would deserve it and I’d be happy for her.

I believe your hand will get better. And even if it doesn’t, I would be happy to just see you sit on that bloody piano and watch you breathe, healthy and safe.

Good to hear that you’re getting along with your new comrades. I can imagine your big grin watching that guy clean your boots. Have you found out what kind of bet he lost yet?

It’s sad that you will have to spend Christmas at the trenches. You will be missed. Even more than usual.

Yes, Lady Sybil’s mother did die giving birth to her. It was horrible. And her father never really recovered from that. But he calmed down about her pregnancy a bit after the doctor’s told him that it is highly unlikely that what happened to her mother will happen to her. Sybil’s husband is happy about the baby and he writes her every day. And he encouraged her to get back to university after Christmas. So Branson had no choice but to give in to their stubbornness. She will leave on boxing day. I will miss her presence. She reminded me of her late mother.

Are you alright? Is it as cold across the channel as it is here? We already have plenty of snow and I spent most of my days shovelling it away from the entrance. Bloody white nightmare.

Have you started the Fitzgerald yet or didn’t you find the time? I hope you do get enough sleep to be fit enough for battle.  
  
Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s good to read that you are better and I hope you’ve gotten rid of that cough. Just please take it slow, okay? For me. I’ve got my hands full with Germans, I can’t afford to worry about you old man now.

I found someone to take care of Nick. A volunteer nurse at a nearby village took some interest in him while I’ve been on a walk with him a couple of nights ago and offered to take care of him once  weg et moving closer to the line. Nick likes her so I think I’ll be leaving him in the right hands. But I’m still sad. I’ve only had him a couple of days, but I love that dog. I made the nurse promise to frequently write me if he is okay. Does that sound weird? Well, maybe I am weird. And before you ask: The nurse is about sixty years old and was bewitched by Nick’s charm, not mine.

Thomas, I wish I knew what to reply to the story about your childhood. I am sorry you had to go through all this shit and I understand you didn’t want to think of it. I’m sorry I brought it up but I still thank you for telling me something this personal. I feel honored that you shared it with me. I never thought that after all that happened between us, you would ever trust me like that. I’m glad you do.

What your father and mother did to you can never be apologized. But I understand why you chose forgiveness. But believe me, if I met the guy knowing what he did to you…I’d have broken more than his nose. Because you did not deserve this. Nobody does.

I never tried forgetting about that night. ~~I mean I did in the beginning but then I understood that was in vain. Because I like the memory. At least the part before Alfred stormed in and everything went to shit. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I try to remember what it felt like kissing you but I can’t really and that makes me mad. I wish I could tell you how I really felt about that night but I can’t put that in a letter, can I? I can’t write any of what I just wrote as long as I am stuck here unknowing if I ever return. But part of me wishes you will see the crossed out words and read between the lines because it’s getting hard to hide my feelings for you and I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. It’s tearing me apart.~~

Do I really sound that much like a revolutionary? I didn’t mean to. I’m just…the killing and reading and staring into the void at night during insomnia is making me kind of philosophic I guess.

The lads are great. Some of them are bloody idiots but most of them are good men and we are getting along well. Unfortunately the Bootcleaning already stopped. Peter (the guy who did the cleaning) had actually bet that I got my scars from a knife-fight (yes, that’s how bad they still look) and cleared his betting debts by taking care of not only my, but the whole squad’s shoes. He was busy half a day and it was glorious to watch him.

Believe it or not, but since me sort of saving the seargent kind of improved my reputation a lot, I have been promoted. I am a corporal now so I have to lead some of those other idiots. I don’t bloody know what I’m doing but I’m trying my best to keep all of us alive and give the Germans hell. I just hope nobody notices that I am fucking scared.

Christmas over here will be incredibly depressing. It’s freezing cold in Belgium, our supplies are short, the food is shitty and we will be moving out tomorrow. Where I am going, no letters will be delivered so I don’t know when I will be able to write you again. It might actually be a couple of weeks. Please don’t worry about me. I still have 6 cat-lives left. And I will write you again as soon as I can.  
  
In the meantime I hope that you are enjoying christmas. And even though it is a bit early, I’m sending my christmas gift to you with this letter. But don’t open the package before christmas day! That’s bad luck and I’m superstitious. It’s nothing big but I bought it back in London and I hope you’ll like it.

I’m taking the Fitzgerald with me and I hope I’ll get to finally read it.

Have a merry Christmas, Thomas. I wish I could spend it with you.  
  
Until soon.  
Love  
**Jimmy**

P.S.: I have to admit I had to laugh a bit about the mental picture of you clearing the snow and cursing. Do you even wear a cap?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a Christmas-Special (a weird thing in August, I know. But it just kinda happened), so get your candles ready :D


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas and Thomas and Jimmy try to make the best of it despite...well, everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the promised Christmas-Chapter. I hope you enjoy this in the middle of August.  
> I frankly enjoyed writing this a lot. I loooove Christmas ^^

Chapter Twenty-Two  
  
**Dear Mr. Barrow** ,

first of all: Merry Christmas. I hope my mother does not shoo you about too badly and you finally get a well-deserved break after the big family-dinner on christmas eve - that I’ll be so unfortunate to miss.

I believe you will be wondering why I am writing to you and I hope it does not feel like an intrusion. I have an important task I would like to kindly ask you to take care of for me.

First of all, I have to share a secret with you. I know you are one to keep secrets and it is indeed not the first time I am asking you to keep one for me but I hope you will be fine with that.

As you might remember, I went to London before I left for the war and met with my cousin Marygold. We went out together and she introduced me to a friend of hers, Miss Georgiana Shaw. She is the most beautiful, funny and intelligent young woman I ever had the pleasure to meet. I believe she didn’t find me any disagreeable as well but nothing happened between us. I’ve been writing her since I left but I am of course not sure if she will wait for me. I could understand it if she would not. But since Christmas is approaching, I would like to send her a present. Unfortunately I did not have the possibility to arrange buying a present in my current circumstances and that is why I need your help.

I would like to send her a book from the library we have spoken about the day we met, a first print of Karl Marx’s „Capital“ that Tom Branson once brought with him from America. I know no one in the family would miss it, and should they, you can show them this letter as a proof that I decided to give it away. Miss Shaw takes a big interest in economy and issues of equality (her mother was a suffragette) and I believe she would greatly enjoy the gift.

Would you be so kind to send it to her together with the card I put in the evelope together with my letter? I know it is not part of your duty to do favours like that but I would be very thankful and I would owe you one.

Anyway, have a very Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Yours sincerely  
**George Crawley**  
  
P.S.: Mother said you happen to know Mr. James Kent because he used to work at Downton once? I recently had the pleasure of briefly speaking to him when he got moved to the post I have been pulled from and I recognized him. He said to give you his greetings and tell you he is „dandy“, as he put it, should I write you and by that gave me the idea to ask you to help me with Miss Shaw in the first place.

* * *

 

**Dear Mylord** ,

I sent the book to Miss Shaw and am sure she will greatly apprechiate your generosity.  
Thank you for delivering Mr. Kent’s greetings. They are greatly appreachiated.  
  
Merry Christmas.  
  
Yours Sincerely  
**Thomas Barrow**

* * *

 

**Dear Thomas** ,

how are you? I hope you finally got rid of that horrible flu for good. Or do you still sound like a steam engine while coughing? If so, you must let my son check you over before the holidays or I’ll make you. He might not be a doctor yet, but he’s qualified enouugh to order you back to bed if necessary.

But that’s not why I am writing.  
John and I want to invite you over for Christmas.  
I know you have loads of things to do until and at Christmas eve, but once the Dinner in the big house is over, we would love it if you’d join us for the celebrations. John junior is not expendable from his work at the hospital during the holidays and his sisters will try to spend as little time as possible with their boring old parents so the house will be very calm and we could use some company!

Don’t try to say no, because I will not allow that. You are not too busy to join us and I assure you, John wants you to come. We will all drink too much wine and get along just fine. And I know Baxter will be spending Christmas with our neighbour so don’t try to make me believe you could not come because you have to keep her company. I know Christmas is not your favorite holiday, but I can’t stand the thought of you spending it all on your own.

We would all love to see you, so please come.  
  
Love  
**Anna**

P.S.: Have you heard from Jimmy? I hope he is alright.

* * *

 

**Dear Anna** ,

don’t worry, my cough is gone. But give my greetings to your son anyway. It’s a shame he has to work on Christmas. But as long as it helps him becoming a doctor and staying away from the trenches it seems allright.

You are not really leaving me any choice, are you?  
Thank you for the invitation, I will gladly join you on Christmas Day.  
I would love to come on Christmas Eve, but I’m afraid the dinner might take until late and I don’t trust my new stand-in-footmen to clean the tables properly afterwards without guidance. It will be very late once everything is clean again and I will not be able to get to Rippon then. But I’ll try to make it to you in time for Breakfast on Christmas Morning.

I’m looking forward to seeing you all (even John).  
  
Love  
**Thomas**  
  
P.S.: I sort of have and I believe he is fine. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

* * *

 

Thomas turned on the lights of his room before he closed the door and sat down on his bed with a sigh. His back hurt, his arms felt heavy and he could no longer hold back a yawn he had been keeping inside for the last three hours. The Christmas dinner had gone surprisingly well and everything was in order. The family had already gone to bed and after drinking a glass of wine with him, Baxter had called it a night as well. They would go to Rippon together the next morning. He to visit the Bates family and her to see her new friend Mr. Shaw. For now, it was time to sleep but Thomas had one last thing to do. He checked his watch and smiled as he saw that it was past midnight and therefore Christmas Day.

After slipping out of his servants uniform and into his pyjamas, he pulled the tiny little package wrapped in an old paper from beyond his bed and sat down with it on his mattress. He carefully pulled the paper away and opened the lid of the carton to see what was inside. Beyond the lit, some tissue paper awaited him and he impatiently pushed it to the side and then gasped at the sight of the present.

In front of him lay a fine, expensive-looking greyish-blue fountain pen, glimmering exquisitly in the dim light of his room. He picked it up to open the lid and get a piece of paper to try writing with it when he noticed something rough under the touch of his fingers.  
He fished for his reading glasses on the bedside table and put them on, looking closer at the cab of the pen and discovered an engraving. It were his initials. _T.B.  
_ He smiled, bit his lip and swallowed before he looked back at the package to pick up the small card that had been hidden under the pen before.  
  
_Merry Christmas, my dear Thomas._  
 _I hope you like the pen. I bought it in London while I was on sickleave and felt like the colour suited you. I thought you might need a proper pen so you can always keep writing me as long as I am stuck here. Thank you for all that you have done for me in this last few months. You are keeping me upright and I hope I will one day be able to make it up to you. I’m lucky and thankful to have you, even though we are far apart. I’m not a big fan of Christmas, but I hope we will be able to celebrate it together one day. Drink a glass of wine for me._  
 _Love, Jimmy._

Thomas kept starring at the note, letting his fingers wander over the last two words before he gently put the pen back into the box, blinked and got up from the bed to walk over to his window and push the curtains to the side.

He looked up to a big full moon behind thick falling snowflakes, whispering to himself with a throbbing heart. „Merry Christmas, Jimmy.“

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Corporal James Edward Kent pulled his arms closer around his own body and stared into the distance of the pitch-black forrest from his hole.He could barely see his own hands as he checked the magazine of his gun for what felt like the billionth time. The only source of light was the big, full moon hidden away behind the treeline of the forrest. He blinked in a desperate attempt to wake his tired eyes up a bit and tried not to think of the very big possibility that loads of Germands wishing to kill every single one of them sat at a nice, comfortable camp full of supplies right behind thad said treeline. Chafing his hands, he hopped from one foot to another, hoping to warm up a bit and cursing under his breath because he had lost his gloves to private Wilson a couple of hours ago for wrongly betting that it would stop snowing by midday. „Fucking snow.“

„Bloody right. That’s snow’s a fucking nightmare.“  
Jimmy winced and turned around, recognizing the voice.  
Suddenly, a light flickered through the darkness, revealing his seargent standing behind him and offering him a cigarette. Jimmy took it with shivering hands and a thanking nodd, letting the seargent light his cigarette for him. They inhaled in silence for a couple of seconds, before Seargent Harper leaned against the wall of the small protective hole and snorted. „Merry fucking Christmas, Kent.“  
Jimmy frowned. „Is it?“  
„What, you’re not enjoying the celebrations?“  
„No, I mean…is it Christmas already?“  
„It’s past midnight yet so it’s already Christmas Day.“  
„Merry bloody Christmas to you too then.“  
Harper snorted again and took a pull on his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the freezing cold air and watching the damp cloud it left in the cold air. „We’ll not be moving before tomorrow morning. There’s loads of Krauts beyond the forrest and I got no intel on how many there are. It’s too bloody dark to try something now. And I don’t think they’ll try something tonight. Goldstein heard them sing carols a couple of hours ago. They don’t seem in the mood.“  
„So we’ll be enjoying Christmas in these beautiful freezing cold holes while they enjoy a nice, warm camp.“  
„Exactly. But there’s good news as well.“  
„Somebody got some booze on him and we’ll share it?“  
„No, but I have hopes we will be receiving new supplies tomorrow. And since we finally do not have any Germans behind us any longer, field post is being delivered again, so I’m making my round as father Christman and deliver cards and letters and presents we  received this afternoon. I got some for you too.  
The lighter flickered again and Jimmy watched his Seargent bend down and pull something out of a huge bag. „You have the rest of the night to write one of your mile-long letters. I’ll tell one of your boys to get you a light and take a watch-shift on your post. But try not to let him see who you are writing to. People might talk.“  
Jimmy looked at his Seagent frowning and holding back a snarky reply but then he saw the older man smile, noticed the small package he was holding out to him and snatched it from his hands. He wanted to turn away, but his Seargent grabbed his shoulder and held him back.  
„I don’t care, Kent. Just so you know. You saved my life and I owe you. Just don’t let any of the boys know. I believe some of them would not take it too well and I don’t want them to give you hell. It’s not good for morale. Maybe show that picture of the woman around a bit tomorrow, if you still have it. You hear me?“  
„Yes, sir.“  
„Good. I’ll send you Cooper for watch. You can take turns during the night. Try to catch some sleep later.“  
„Thank you sir. And Merry Christmas.“  
„Yeah, whatever.“

As soon as privvate Cooper hat joined him in the hole, Jimmy huddled into a corner as far away from him as possible. He ordered the private to watch the treeline and placed the lamp he had brought with him next to his feet so he could see enough to unpack the tiny package he was still holding. He made sure Cooper was busy checking their surroundings for enemies before he carefully unwrapping the package that felt soft but heavy in his hands to uncover something textile and a letter inside it. He put the letter on his lap, unfolded the textile and smiled. It was a huge, incredibly soft, brown scarf, thick, but subtle and elegant. Wrapped inside it were matching gloves that felf heavenly soft and dry in his icy hands. He hastily wrapped the sacrf around his cold neck and pulled it over his smiling mouth and ice-cold nose, smelling the scent of newness and a hint of tobacco. Afterwards, he pulled his new gloves over his shivering red hands, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling returning to his numb fingers, soothing the burning pain of the scar in his left hand. He bit hit lip not to let out a sight and opened the envelope in his lap to read the letter inside.

**Dear Jimmy** ,

wherever you are, I wish you a Merry Christmas. I feel cynical writing it because of course you are not going to have a nice Christmas. But I still hope you are not miserable and not freezing or being shot at. I hope you are safe and at least get this before the end of the holidays.

I wanted to get you something for Christmas and thought you might need a scarf and glove because you wrote that you were cold. So I went to York and bought the warmest scarf and gloves I could find. I hope you like them. I know it’s nothing special but maybe it offers you some comfort.

You crossed a lot out in your last letter. A full paragraph. I thought we were past that. Whatever you wanted to say and decided against it, feel free to tell me. If it was about telling me that you are uncomfortable talking about that cursed night in our past…I do understand you.

Good that you found someone to take care of Nick. I hope he will get better and find a loving home after the war and I am sure the nurse will take good care of him while you are away.

Congratulations on your promotion. It’s well-deserved, I believe.

I really hope this war will soon be over and you can come home. Maybe we can make up for this year’s Christmas next year? I’m sure we will have defeated the Germans by then. We could go away for Christmas someplace nice, sit in front oft he fireplace and just talk. Face to face. Maybe get drunk enough to sing some stupid old carols. Have a good dinner and just…be alive together. How does that sound to you? Boring, I guess.

Of course I will not open your package before Christmas Day. I put it under my bed so I am not tempted. Even though I don’t know yet what it is: Thank you. You shouldn’t have bothered to get me a present but I apprechiate it very much and I am sure I am going to like it.

This year I will be spending Christmas with the Bates once the Christmas Dinner is over. I know, me and Mr. Bates in one room doesn‘t sound very festive but Anna invited me and left me no choice. And if I wouldn’t celebrate with them I would be entirely on my own on Christmas because Baxter is visiting Mr. Shaw and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I know I’m not supposed to worry about you but I do. It drives me up the walls not to know if you are okay. Your bloody wellbeing matters to me way more than it should and if I’d had only one wish to make this Christmas it would be for you to come back. You and George Crawley and Mr. Aldirdge and Sybil’s husband.

I don’t know when you will get to read this but prepare for some stories about my Christmas with Anna and John Bates in my next letter. I hope I will keep myself from provoking a quarrel with him. I don’t know why, but that man always gets under my skin.

Please write me again as soon as I can so I know if you are okay and if I guessed the size of your gloves correctly.  
  
Love  
**Thomas**  
PS: Of course I wear a cap while shoveling the snow away. I don’t want to get sick again. (And yes, I look stupid while doing it)

Jimmy smiled a sad little smile looking at his perfectly fitting new gloves and stuffing the letter to the countless others inside his jacket. He shook his head sighing, blinked, swallowed and pulled some pen and paper from the pocket of his jacket while tugging his new scarf tighter around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling in the mood to buy a tree now? :D


	23. Chapter twenty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas spends Christmas with the Bates-family and has an important conversation with Anna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I let you wait a long time for this chapter and I'm sorry.  
> I seem to be back to my normal super-slow writing routine because it's super stressful at the office at the moment and my brain can barely manage anything other than watching TV after work at the moment :D  
> Buuut nevertheless, here comes the next chapter (and I will spend the rest of the evening working on 24 so I can upload it faster this time).  
> I hope you'll like it.

Chapter twenty-three __  
  
Thomas took one last deep beath of cold air before he lifted his free hand to knock on the wooden door. Before his gloved hand could touch the dark wood, the door was opened and he had to pull his fist back not to accidentially hit John Bates in the face.  
„Good morning, Thomas. Come in, come in.“  
Thomas nodded formally. „I didn’t mean to…punch you, I just wasn’t expecting someone being at the door yet.“  
Bates lifted his brows but made a throwing gesture and offered to take his coat and hat.    
While Thomas slipped out of his coat, Anna joined them in the hallway, a broad smile on her lips.  
„You came!“ She pulled him into a tight hug before he could turn away and squeezed him tight. Thomas awkwardly patted her on the back and laughed when she finally let him go. „Merry Christmas to you, Anna.“ He cleared his throat. „And Mr. Bates.“  
Bates chuckled and patted his shoulder. „It’s christmas. Call me John.“  
„Alright then. Merry Christmas, John.“  
Anna leaned against her husband, beaming with love. „To you too, Thomas“ they said in perfect unison and Thomas would have been disgusted with their happiness hadn’t he felt a sudden warmth in his stomach at the sight of a content Anna kissing her husband on his cheek. He would have wondered about the missing bitterness of watching a happy couple, but was then greeted by Elizabeth and Lillian Bates, the couple’s daughters aged 15 and 16. Elizabeth, the younger one, did her mother proud and quickly hugged him, wishing him a merry christmas, while Lillian only shook his hand and mumbled something, obviously annoyed that she would have to go through a family Christmas family-breakfast rather than having a snowball-fight with the neighbour‘s daughters.

They sat down to a lovely breakfast, talking about the huge amounts of snow, Thomas‘ travel to Rippon, the guests at the hotel and their new maids and Thomas and John Bates somehow managed not to quarrel. The topic of war was kindly avoided and Thomas guessed that was Anna’s doing. He was thankful for that. After breakfast, Thomas gave his presents to the girls. Elizabeth loved the Jane Austen novel he had gotten her and quickly ran to the chair in front of the fireplace to immediately start reading. Lillian tried not to look too impressed with the red silk hairband Thomas had gotten her, but her smile gave her away and it grew wider when Anna suggested she’d wear it under her bonnet when she got outside for a snowball-fight. She hastily got up, planting a kiss on her mothers cheek and shouting a quick „thank you“ to Thomas before she disappered into the hallway and out the door into the snow. Bates got up to clear the table, ordering his wife with a smile to stay sitting down. „I’ll take care of the washing-up. Elizabeth will help me, right Lizzy?“   
Elizabeth sighed, but closed her book nevertheless, following her father into the kitchen.

After John had closed the door behind him, Anna leaned forward, grabbing Thomas‘ hands that lay on the table. „How are you? You still look pale.“  
Thomas smiled and chuckled. „I am fine, mother hen. I am always pale.“  
„You don’t get enough sleep.“  
He smiled his protective smile and shrugged.   
„I’ve got something for you.“   
„Oh you shouldn’t have…“  
„Shut up and open it.“  
He pulled his hands away and reached into the inside pockets of his jacket, unveiling a tiny package and placing it in front of Anna.  
Anna grinned and unpacked it, uncovering a diary with a fine leather binding.  
„Oh Thomas, I love it! Thank you so much! But you really shouldn’t have spent that much money.“  
„You’re welcome. I knew you needed a new one.“ He smirked and enjoyed watching her face while she gently lifted the notebook out of the package and stroke over the cover with awe.   
„I’ve got something for you too. It’s not as exquisite as this, but I saw it when I was buying christmas cards and it made me think of you.“  
She stood up, fetched a wrapped present from under the Christmas tree that stood in the middle of the room and handed it to him, watching his face nervously while he unwrapped it.  
Thomas lips twitched into a smile when he uncovered the fine stationery Anna had gotten him and he looked up to her, nodding. „This is great, thank you.“  
Anna smiled and sat back down next to him, pouring each of them another cup of tea.   
„I thought you might need it.“  
„I sure do.“  
She sipped at her teacup and wrapped her hands around the warm porcellain.  
„How is he?“  
Thomas shook his head. „I don’t know. He is someplace where he cannot send any letters. That means close to battle, I believe.“  
„How are you holding up?“  
„Me? I am not the one at war. I am good.“  
„Oh Thomas.“ She chuckled. „The rings under your eyes tell a different story.“  
„I had a lot of things to organise at Downton. You know how it is around Christmas.“  
„You worry about him a lot, don’t you?“  
Thomas looked at the tablecloth, nibbeling at its stitched lace and sighed.  
„I just…if he gets hurt again how high are the odds he is lucky again and survives it?“  
„You just have to believe he won’t get hurt a second time. He learned his lesson and I’m sure he is more careful now.“  
Thomas felt his jaw tense and anger build up in his chest but he swallowed it and just nodded. „Yes, I’m sure you are right.“  
„He’ll be visiting you at Downton sooner than you think, I am sure. He was planning to do that when he got back, wasn’t he?“  
He nodded, his gaze still glued to the tablecloth. „Yes.“  
„Good. That’s nice. Is he planning on staying a while, or…“  
„Anna, please…“  
„I’m just curious.“  
„I don’t know what he is planning for his life after the war. We talked about things we want to do together when he visits, that’s it.“  
„Like?“  
„Like spending some time, see a movie. Things like that.“  
Anna looked at Thomas, who was still avoiding her gaze, with worry.  
„Thomas, I know Jimmy means a lot to you, just…be careful this time.“  
He suddenly looked up to her, a derisive smile on his lips.  
„Don’t worry, Mrs. Bates. I know that all we will ever be is friends and I am fine with that. And he knows I know that. So please do not worry about my private matters anymore.“  
„I’m sorry, I did not mean to intrude. I just remember him as such a vain, flirtatious boy and I don’t want him to hurt you again.“  
„He is not like that anymore, Anna. He changed. He grew up. You wouldn’t recognize him.“  
„But you still like him?“  
Thomas dropped his gaze again, chuckling bitterly.  
„Of course I do. It’s not like I could switch it off like a light.“  
„Just promise me to be careful, Thomas. He nearly broke you the last time. And you don’t deserve that.“  
„Don’t worry, Anna.“ He looked at her, the derisive smile gone and replaced by a sad one. „I’ll never be that stupid. I learned my lesson long ago and am looking for nothing but friendship. That will be enough for me. And I will never break again. I promise.“  
She nodded.  
„I’m sorry. I didn’t…“  
He quickly pressed one of her hands.  
„I know. Now let’s change the topic, shall we?“  
Anna nodded hesistantly and sighed.  
„So. How is everyone at Downton?“

Thomas and Anna chatted for a couple of minutes about the newest Downton Gossip and Thomas tried to hide away how much Anna’s friendly warning had gotten under his skin. His smile was crumbling and his good mood dissolving, but he tried to appear as if everything was fine and because he was so experienced in acting, Anna did not notice it. She told him about the kids and how things were going at the hotel and he smiled and nodded and laughed at the right moments, until Bates came back from the kitchen, sat down back at the table and met Thomas‘ eyes. The hint of a frown appeared on the older man’s forehead and Thomas immediately felt uncomfortable. „Were did Elizabeth go?“ He asked, trying to engage in smalltalk again. „She joined her sister outside. Could not resist the prospect of a proper snowfight much longer“ Bates said with a smirk.  
Anna grinned. „I can’t blame her.“  
„Maybe we should go outside as well? It’s…good weather after all.“  
Bates chuckled. „Since when are you into snow?“  
„Always been“ Thomas lied.  
He noticed Anna nodging her elbow agains her husband‘s hip and looked away.  
„I bet the girls would love it if you joined them. And we could start preparing dinner already.“  
„Maybe the girls need some time without adults around, darling“ Bates chuckled and Anna nodded. „You’re probably right.“  
Thomas gritted his teeth and tried for another solution to get away from the table and out oft he situation. „I could help you in the kitchen, if you like.“  
He heard Bates snorting and felt his hands in his lap tense up immediately.  
„Do you even know how to peel a potato?“ Bates grinned and Anna rolled her eyes at him.  
„I never needed to, Mr. Bates“ Thomas said with his slickest smile.  
„It’s John.“  
„I never needed to, John. But I guess I could manage.“  
Anna rolled her eyes again. „Leave him alone, John. You were of no help in the household when we first moved in together.“  
Bates laughed. „Well, that’s true. But I thought maybe Thomas could help me chop some wood instead. We’ll need some for the oven later since we’re nearly out of coal and I have to admit that I’m getting old and slow and we’d be faster together.“  
Anna shrugged. „Would you mind, Thomas?“  
Thomas gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile.  
„Of course not.“ He rubbed his stomach. „I could for sure use some excercise.“  


Half an hour later, Thomas was sweating and freezing at the same time. He chopped piece after piece of wood into perfect logs and threw them into the baskets Bates had given him. He had been afraid that the former valet would keep him company, but he had excused himself after just ten minutes, saying he had to check something at the barn and hadn’t returned ever since. So Thomas just hit the wood with the axe Bates had given him as hard as he could and did not even notice how his hits got more and more aggressive until the sweat was already running into his burning eyes, blinding his vision. He aimed for another  woodpiece, missing it by an inch and landing the axe on the tree stump beneath instead. He let go of the axe’s handle and kicked the woodpiece into the snow with fury. Then he stood there, staring into the distance and catching his rattling breath, noting his racing heartbeat and wondering where all that anger had come from so suddenly. Thomas pulled the Axe from the stump, throwing it on top of one of the baskets and sat down on the remains of the tree, lighting himself a cigarette with shivering hands. He inhaled his first puff, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in an attempt to calm down. Without warning, he felt his eyes turning wet beyond his eyelids and let out a shivering sigh that released the tension from his chest. He quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and swallowed to get his composure back, but the tears kept running down his cheeks unstoppable.

  
Bates stood at the window next to his wife and sighed.   
Anna looked at Thomas sitting outside on his own and frowned with worry.   
„You think that was a good idea?“, she asked her husband.  
„He needed to let off some steam. Now go outside and try to talk to him. Maybe take a walk. I’ll take care of the cooking.“  
Anna lifted her eyebrows. „I’ve got two questions for you, John Bates. The first is ‚are you sure you can handle the cooking‘. The second is ‚since when do you care about Thomas Barrow‘?“  
Bates smiled and planted a kiss on her hair. „I am sure I can handle the cooking. You like Barrow and it’s christmas. Let’s just say that’s enough reson for me to care.“  
She chuckled and took off her apron, hurrying to the coat rack.

Thomas flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder, immediately trying to wipe his eyes  and forcing a smile on his features while he turned around to face Anna, who was holding a handkerchief out to him.  
„I must have gotten something into my eyes.“  
He grabbed the handkerchief and wiped his eyes again, making space on the stump as Anna sat down next to him, handing him his coat.  
„Put this on. It’s cold.“  
He obeyed and snuffled, hoping Anna had not seen or hear him cry.  
„You are still madly in love with Jimmy, aren’t you?“ Anna looked at him and he tried to look away.  
„I…“  
She grabbed one of his hands that were cramping around the handkerchiev and sighed.  
„It’s okay, Thomas. I am your friend. You can tell me anything.“  
He simple nodded, letting out a sad, bitter chuckle.  
„I shouldn’t, I know.“  
„There’s nothing one can do about love, I guess.“  
„Apparently. Because frankly, I tried everything.“  
„I know. Look, what I said back inside…I did not mean to critisize or hurt you. I do not believe that anything about your love for Jimmy is wrong. I just worry about you, that’s all.“  
„You don’t think I am a pervert? Or foul?“  
„I think you are a grown man and can do what you want as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, Thomas. You are the way you are and I like you for who you are. No matter whom you love.“  
Thomas swallowed, struggling to hide his surprise. „Thank you.“  
„That’s nothing to thank me for, Thomas. It’s what friends do.“  
Thomas chuckled and wiped another tear from his eye.  
„I’m just not used to people not despising me for what I am.“  
„I know.“ Anna pressed his hand. „You can always talk to me, you know that?“  
„Well, now I do.“ They exchanged a smile and Anna sighed.  
„So Jimmy does not have a wife or girlfriend then? No one?“  
Thomas shook his head, frowning. „No. Why are you asking?“  
Anna shrugged. „I don’t know. He always seemed to attract women, that’s all. I’m surprised he never got married or anything.“  
„He wrote he never really found the right person. He never fell for anyone.“  
Anna nodded. Now she was the one frowning.  
„He wrote you out of the blue, right?“  
„Yes. I hadn’t heard from him in years.“  
„Telling you that he wrote you because he wanted to talk someone who had been to war?“  
„Yes, that’s what he said in the beginning.“  
„But then..?“  
Thomas chuckled, looking at his feet that were kicking away snow.  
„He said he always wanted to write because he missed me and the war just gave him the courage.“  
„Hm. And when you visited him? How was he?“  
„He was…Jimmy, but different.“  
„In what way?“  
„Grown-up. Kinder. Less restrained. More…honest, I believe.“  
Anna cleared her throat. „Can I see one of his letters? You don’t have to show me, I’m just curious and…“  
But Thomas had already reached into his pocket, pulling Jimmy’s Christmas note out and handing it to her. Anna took and read it, her eyes growing wider with every word, before handing the letter back to Thomas, crossing her arms in front of her chest.  
„He got you a Christmas present?“  
„An engraved pen, yes.“  
„Have you ever considered the possibility that he…likes you?“  
Thomas let out a bitter laugh and shook his head.  
„You don’t want to know how much time I spend asking myself whether he does. But at the same time I’m sure he doesn’t. Not that way. He made that clear years ago. He likes women. He likes me as a friend. A best friend maybe. But that’s it.“  
„Are his letters always written in such an…intimate tone or was that just Christmas sentimentality?“  
Thomas handed her his last full letter, the one with the crossed out paragraph.  
Anna’s eyebrows lifted once she was finished reading.  
„He sounds very fond of you, Thomas. I mean I don’t know the context of this letter but you two seem to be sharing a lot of things about your lives and he sounds like he genuinely cares about you.“  
„As a friend.“  
„You could be right, but…what’s that crossed-out paragraph?“  
„I don’t know. He sometimes does that. I tried reading it with the help of a lamp, but it’s impossible.“  
„What night was he talking about?“  
Thomas looked away.  
„You know what night.“  
„Oh.“ She lifted her eyebrows again. „Anyway you are right, he seems to have changed and I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I feel like I did not do him justice.“  
„You were just beong protective.“ He smiled at her and she laughed.  
„That’s true. But Thomas, really. His letters sound like there is something he is trying to tell you between the lines, don’t you think?“  
„I really don’t know. I tell myself it’s nothing.“  
Anna nodded. „I understand. But whatever happens when you see him again…try not to push him away again. In whatever way, he cares about you, that’s obvious.“  
„I won’t push him away. I couldn’t if I wanted.“  
„I’m here for you, you know?“  
He nodded. „Yes. Thank you, Anna.“  
She made a waving gesture. „Let’s get back inside before John destroys my kitchen, shall we?“  
Thomas smirked and nodded. „After you.“  
He didn’t notice Anna slipping the letter in the pocket of her coat.

Once they were back at the house, Anna quickly excused herself to the bathroom, sneaking up the stairs to John’s office, turning on the bright lamp her husband had gotten in order to be able to do paperwork in the evenings and searched his drawers for his magnifier. She fished the letter from her pocket, placed it directly on the lamp and looked through the magnifier, trying to decipher the fragments of Jimmy’s words she could make out under the covering lines and winced when she managed to read one oft he fragments. It said „hide my feelings for you“. Anna smiled with a frown and turned off the lamp. She had read enough. For a whole minute, she stood in front of John’s desk, asking herself what to do. Apparently she was right and Jimmy did like Thomas in a way other than just as a friend. That was a good thing, she believed. But poor Thomas didn’t know anything about it. And Jimmy apparently did not want him to know it, for whatever reason. Although every single one of his not-crossed-out words gave him away easily.  
She sighed. It was not her place to tell Thomas. He would not believe her anyway, even if she showed the readable fragment to him. He needed to hear it from Jimmy himself. Anna nodded to herself and looked at the back of the letter, getting herself a piece of paper and a pen to write down the address. Then she walked down, stuffed the letter back inside Thomas‘ coatpocket unnoticed and walked into the kitchen to stop the two men from arguing any further about the amount of wood needed to fire up the oven for the Christmas roast.  
  
Thomas helped Anna prepare a lovely Christmas dinner despite the rationing – Anna had apparently managed to save some groceries for Christmas - and they spend the day laughing about old Downton anecdotes. With every glass of wine they drank while cooking he relaxed a little more and shoved his worries further away in his mind. He managed not to argue with Bates throughout the evening – thanks to Anna making both men drunk enough not to care about their old hostility. As the evening moved on and night approached, Thomas said goodbye to the Bates family under heavy protests to catch the last train and smiled through his whole way to the station, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the story's first chapter without any Jimmy in it. Felt weird to write it. 
> 
> I know I wrote Bates a bit softer but I always kind of liked him and I like to imagine that his and Thomas hostility cooled down with time and age.


	24. Chapter twenty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Thomas and Jimmy get compliated. A third party gets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. I got two more finished chapters in store again that I'll be posting before I'm leaving for a holiday in Italy on the 17th =)

Chapter twenty-four

**Dear Thomas** ,

I cannot thank you enough for your presents because they really saved me from freezing. You don’t know how desperately I needed that scarf and new gloves. I love them very much. They are soft and warm and the perfect shade of brown to blend in with my uniform.

Thank you, Thomas. Really. It was the most perfect and thoughtful gift I ever got from anyone. It offered me more comfort than you could ever imagine. Like feeling my fingers again for instance. I owe you.

 

I'm writing this on the night of Christmas Day inside a hole at god knows where. We will stay put here for tonight and got lucky receiving field post again. So after receiving your letter and package I am no longer miserable nor freezing and I am quiet content that I won't be shot at for a couple of hours at least. It's a much better Christmas than I would've hoped for under the given circumstances so I try not to complain about my icy feet or growling stomach. I know it could be way worse. Frankly, despite the war and everything, this is my happiest Christas ever since the last one before the Blitz. Because even though things aren’t exactly great at the moment, I do not feel completely alone anymore.

 

Have you received my present? I hope you liked it. When I saw the pen at the store, I had to buy it. It matched the colour of your eyes so perfectly, I could not walk past it. 

I hope you had a very nice Christmas and am already curious to hear about your time with Bates. I bet you won't be able not to quarrel with him. And I can understand that. I never got what Anna liked so much about him. She always was so kind and lively and he was just so...plain and dogmatic. I hope poor Anna didn't have to stop you two from getting in a fist-fight or something although I believe he must be way to old for stuff like that now, mustn't he?

 

I really hope Nick will be alright. I doubt I will get the chance to see him again and that makes me kind of sad. He is a great dog.

 

Your Christmas-plans for next year sound almost perfect to me. Count me in, I love boring. I know that must seem strange coming for me, but post-war Jimmy will be into boring a lot. I cannot wait to live a normal life again. Work some lame job. Apprechiate a comfortable bed and good company and decent tea and the warmth of a firelace. I've had enough of adventures for now. I could use a break. Before we start travelling, of course.

 

I am sorry for causing you so much worry. I wish I could do something about it but all I can do is to try and survive this war. 

I'm sort of optimistic it will be over sooner than later. Our allied forces are making progress and I hope I will be back in England before the trees start blooming. 

 

The crossed-out paragraph in my last letter...how can I explain that properly?

Yes, you are right, we are past that and since it is Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth I admit that I did not cross it out because I want to hide something from you or out of anger. I crossed it out because I was scared to share something with you I'm not ready to share yet. Or at least not on paper. Not because I don't want to - believe me, I do - but because I feel like I can't. Not like this. Not while things are the way they are with me lying less than a mile away from Krauts willing to kill me if I make one wrong movement.

I wrote something in that paragraph that would have been insensitive to write in such a way and that's why I crossed it out. And I apologize. I know I promised to try and be less cryptic but please try to understand my side as well.

The things I want and need to discuss with you are of a very personal matter. Of a matter that I feel needs to be discussed in person. I know I screwed up to talk with you about it when we met in London but to be honest I lacked the courage. And the hospital did not seem an appropriate setting. And I was tired and confused and full of painkillers.

I told you I am still a coward and that wasn't a lie. Believe me when I tell you that it has nothing to do with me wanting to forget anything about the past or change any of the plans we made for when the war is over or with me despising anything about you. Not at all. ~~Rather the opposite.~~ But that's all I can say about this now so please, please don't keep asking me. Or I might change my mind and tell you everything on paper and I would forever regret that.

 

I have to close this now, take turns with my watchpost and give the poor sod some time to sleep. 

I hope I will be able to write you again soon.

 

Love

**Jimmy**

* * *

 

 

**Dear James** ,

 

this is Anna Bates writing. I hope you do not mind me contacting you but I feel I have something important to say. Thomas Barrow has become one of my closest friends within the last fifteen years and I worry about him a lot lately.

He told me about your correspondence and your rekindled friendship and it got me worrying about him. I wouldn't normally intervene because Thomas is a grown man and this is all none of my business. But the last time Thomas stopped being your friend, he fell apart and we could barely help him piece his life back together. 

And since I happen to know something about you that you are keeping from him, I could not stop myself from writing you.

On Christmas, Thomas showed me one of your letters. Please don't be angry with him, he just needed the advice of a friend and he didn't share any secrets with me. I noticed a whole crossed-out paragraph and without telling Thomas about it, I managed to decipher parts of it. Not that I would have needed to. Your whole letter is an exhibit of your secret, but he cannot read between the lines. It is not my place to tell him about it, but I believe it's yours. So what is stopping you?

 

He is terribly afraid to wrongly assume something from your letters which is no surprise after your past. It's tearing Thomas apart. He tries to tell himself that he might be misunderstanding you, but he is clearly not.  


I understand your situation is difficult at the moment. But what if you do not return and he will never know about the things you want to tell him? He will forever believe he was a fool. And he deserves better than that.

James, you have to tell him. Before it is too late.

I'm sorry I'm so intrusive but watching Thomas going through obviously feeling ashamed and trying to deny...I would not be a true friend to him if I stood by saying nothing, knowing what I know. You hurt him badly once and you have no right to do that again.

 

Please do not ever tell him I wrote to you. He would be furious and ashamed and the last thing I want is to hurt him or watch him getting hurt.

I hope you will return safely from this war. I would like to see you again. You really seem to have grown.

Kind regards

**Anna Bates**

 

* * *

 

  
**Dear Jimmy** ,

  
I was so happy to receive your letter, Lord Grantham actually asked me if something was wrong with me because I smiled while serving his breakfast.

  
I’m glad you liked my present and I hope it kept you warm a bit. Did you get out of that horrible hole and away from those nasty Krauts?

  
I did receive your gift and I love it. I’m writing this letter with it. It’s a really lovely pen and it looks so posh I hope you did not spend too big of a fortune on it. Thank you very much, Jimmy. It’s the best Christmas present I ever got and along with the stationary I’m writing on (a present from Anna), I feel like I’m perfectly equipped for as much letter-writing as neccessary.

  
Christmas at the Bates‘ house was different than I imagined. Bates and I got along quiet well apart from two or three little quarrels Anna always mediated quickly. I had some time to talk to Anna and I…got to talk about a lot of things on my mind and she was really lovely. I feel like I never did her justice when I called her just „friendly“ or acted as if I never had a proper friend when all along, Anna was kind to me. She is a friend. A good one. And thanks to her and her daughters, I had a lovely Christmas.   
  
~~I wish you could’ve been there.  
Anna made me confess out loud that I have feelings for you. Other feelings than friendship and that those feelings are…difficult for me. She thinks you might feel something similar and I really want to believe that she is right because your letters are so intimate and full of hints but I…I think I’m overinterpreting. I’m imagining things. And your cryptic hints give my wounded old heart false hope. I fear it to break if we meet again and I finally understand that this hope was in vain. I don’t know if I will be able to stand that. I want to apprechiate what we have – a friendship that means a lot to me – but those hopes make everything complicated and dangerous. If I allow my feelings for you to grow I might not be able to just be friends with you again so I try to stop myself but I cannot stop. To stop myself from falling for you, I would need to distance myself from you and I could never do that. So I wish you would just spit out whatever you have to say while I do understand that you can’t because it seems to be something important that you want to tell me in person and I just…I hate this bloody war and I wish it was over so we could finally talk. Because you are driving me mad!~~

See? This is what a whole crossed-out paragraph feels like. I got things to tell you that are not suitable for a letter as well. Though I doubt I will ever be able to say them to your face.

Please let me know if you are safe and sound.

Happy new year, Jimmy.  
I will think of you when the clock strikes twelve tonight.  
  
Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

**Dear Anna** ,

  
I thought a long time about your letter and for a good while, I didn’t know what to reply. But after receiving Thomas‘ last letter to me, I feel I need to answer.

  
Yes, you did intrude, even though I understand why you did it. You are a great friend to Thomas and I’m happy to know he has someone as loyal as you by his side. But it is true that it’s not your place to tell Thomas what you came to find out because I was too stupid to cross my careless words out accurately enough. Do you think that after what happened all those years ago at Downton, he would believe you? Or me? In a letter? I need to say it to his face. First of all, because he deserves it. Second, because I need to know how he reacts to it. I cannot sit here waiting for a reply to a letter carrying a secret as big as this. It would drive me insane. Because believe it or not, this secret means the world to me too. And I need all my senses on full alert as long as I am at war. I don’t want to die and if my thoughts wander off too much, I might as well fail at that. And thirdly, because even if I spelled it out to him in the most famous words for it, he would find a way to misunderstand me and not believe me. Because of what I did back at Dowton (believe me, I hate myself for it every single day ever since then). Moreover, I feel like I might be promising something I would not be able to keep if I don’t make it back. And that would hurt him. And last but not least: There would be a danger in writing things like that down in a letter. For the both of us. I swear I will tell him everything once this war is over. In person. But I will not spell it out to him on paper. I can’t.

  
Even though I know it’s a horrible thing to keep the truth from Thomas for so long and I hate myself for it every bloody minute of every fucking day, I feel I have no other choice. I wish he would be able to read between the lines so it would be easier to convince him that what he thought all along is true when we see again but…I guess it really is on me that he can’t.

  
Don’t worry about the case of me dying. I made sure the secret is fully revealed to him shouldn’t I make it back. I wrote a letter for that case that explains everything. I would never allow to let him feel like a fool ever again. I guess I don’t have to tell you I hope you will be there for him, should I fall. As much as I wish that he’d withstand it, I am kind of worried he won’t. Not because I don’t believe him to be strong. But because I worry about him too. A lot. And I know that’s my very own fault. If I stayed away from him, he would be perfectly fine. It was a selfish thing to write him in the first place but now I can’t go back.

  
I’m very sorry Anna, but that’s all I can do from where I am standing now.  
I know it’s not enough. Please try to understand.

  
I hope you and your family are well.  
  
Thank you for your letter. I know it was written in good friendship to Thomas and I fully deserved that kick in the ass. And to be honest, as much as your letter fed my own self-hatred, a part of it made me happy. I wasn’t sure if Thomas was seeing things the same way I am. But knowing that he apparently does now…it might be terribly selfish, but it does make me happy. And it gives me hope that there will be better days in the future. For the both of us.

  
Kind regards and a happy new year to you and your beloved.  
**Jimmy Kent**  
  


* * *

  
**Dear Thomas** ,

  
I received your letter a full week into 1945 and I wish you a happy new year too. May the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows.

 

Don’t worry, every penny I spend on that pen was worth it if it brings you any joy.

  
I understand that you are angry with me. You have every right to be. If you feel like you don’t want to write me for a while or anymore at all, I do understand. But I have to admit it would make me sad.

  
I’m glad you had a nice Christmas and Bates apparently behaved himself.  
  
Unfortunately, me and my unit will be displaced soon and I don’t know how fast field-post will find me where we are going. So if you do not hear from me for a while, do not worry. I might just be busy killing Kraut’s at some godforsaken place I cannot tell you about.

  
I will be staring at the moon whenever I can. Asking myself if maybe you are looking at it too.

  
Take care.  
Love  
**Jimmy**

 

P.S.: I loved „The beautiful and the damned“. It made me sad. In a good way. Being sad is better than feeling myself grow numb in this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys still bearing with me? =)


	25. Chapter twenty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas thinks Jimmy is an idiot and Jimmy gets to see a new place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS for all those lovely comments and all the kudos <3333  
> This really means a lot to me!

Chapter twenty-five   
  


**Dear Jimmy** ,

please stop being an idiot. Of course I don’t want to stop writing you. You became a part of my life – even if just through letters, and ‚just‘ feels like the wrong word here – and I cannot imagine cutting this part out of it again. Yes, I might be angry with you, but I’ll save my anger for the day we meet again and I get to finally ask you what the hell it is you couldn’t tell me before.

  
I hope you did not get moved to anyplace even more dangerous than before. Please be careful and try not to be a hero again. And stay away from exploding grenades, for god’s sake.

  
I’ll be staring at the moon every night before I go to bed so we have something to share.

  
Tell me if you want another book and I’ll send you one. If you need more sad ones, I’d recommend some Dickens. I will not write that I’m worried about the thing you wrote according to growing numb because I remember very well that war does that to soldiers. Just try not to give in to it, Jimmy. Don’t let it make you forget your humanity. You are better than that.  
  
Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

  
**Dear Thomas** ,

just a quick postcard to let you know I’m fine.  
Yes, that is the Eiffel Tower on the picture on the back. We are quickly passing through Paris on our way and I will sleep a night in a real bed and already had some real food (the french food is not as bad as I always thought) and actually saw a movie with some comrades at a cinema tonight. I have no idea what it was about because my eyes kept falling close but it was nice to hear them laugh for once.  
We’ll be transferred to our target location tomorrow morning and at the end of the next day, I’ll be back at fighting. But for now, I am enjoying the peace around me and think of you while I sit at some Cafe and look at the Eiffel Tower hiding the moon.  


I’m happy that you won’t stop writing me. Please send me a Dickens novel. I don’t know when it will reach me and how much time I will have for reading, but books give me comfort. Especially those you choose for me.  
  
Love  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was rather short but I'll leave you another longer chapter before I leave for my holiday in Italy on sunday ;)


	26. Chapter twenty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Jimmy are both pretty miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo. Here comes another new chapter - as promised - before I'll leave for Italy on early monday morning.  
> We'll be staying on holiday for a bit less than two weeks so there won't be any updates while I'm away but I've got my writing-equipment with me and maybe the beach inspires me to write another new chapter or two ;)  
> Until then: I hope you enjoy reading this and are still there when I return!

Chapter twenty-six

  
**Dear Jimmy,**  
  
Is Paris worth a visit? I always wanted to go but somehow never had the chance. I bet the French are incredibly happy they have finally been liberated from the Germans. Did you enjoy your night in a real bed? I hope you managed to get some good sleep. How was the french food? I remember you once said you just quit working for Anstruther because she went to France and you hated the food. I guess that has changed?

 

I have to admit I tried figuring out where they might have send you and I did not like the outcome of my research. But then again there is no „safe“ places at the frontlines I guess. The papers make it sound as if we are already winning this war but I cannot believe it yet even though I wish they were right. Tell me, are they?

 

The snow started melting over here and I feel like it is getting a bit warmer already. At least I do no longer feel like freezing during my cigarette breaks. I hope you aren’t so very cold any longer as well.

  
I have some good news to tell. Baxter will soon no longer be called Dexter. She’s marrying Mr. Shaw in less than a month. They decided pretty quickly to tie the knot but as Baxter put it, they are not getting any younger and I believe she does not want to make the same mistake she made with Molesley again. I’m very happy for her. She deserves to be loved and I think Shaw is madly in love with her. But I have to admit, that it also makes me kind of sad. Baxter says she doesn’t plan to retire after the wedding, but she will move out to live in Rippon with her new husband right after the wedding. That means I’ll only see her a couple of hours a day and that I will become the last servant actually living at Downton. I know I sound pretty selfish and maybe I am. I wish Baxter all the best in the world and I support her decision but I’ll miss her. Baxter will forever stay my friend – and my colleague for a couple of years to come – but there won’t be any more late-night-cardgames or cinema-visits. I will have breakfast and dinner all on my own. I mean, I am used to loneliness, but I still fear the day she’ll pack her bags and leave. And I envy her so much. She uses to be my companion in being alone. The way she never got Molesley I never got anyone I loved and…I felt kind of understood by her. But lately everyone around me seems to move a step further in their lives, to find a home, and I am stuck here on my own as I’ll forever be. I know you’ll say I have you and Anna and Baxter will still be around but that’s not what I mean. I will never have someone to come ‚home‘ to. Downton is my home in a way, but it is a place (that is not even mine) and not a person. It’s just a place to live. Not a shelter from being alone. And as much as I want to stop myself from feeling this way, all of this makes me sad and jealous and…guilty. Like I am some kind of bad.

  
I’m sorry I’m so melancholic today. Maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I stayed up late to polish the silverware and maybe I shouldn’t have done it all in one night.

  
Anyway, I guess you have bigger problems than this whiny old man writing you. How do you handle being a corporal? Better than you feared, I bet. One always lives up to the occasion once one has to, I believe.

  
And have you heard of the woman who took care of your dog yet? I hope they are both fine.  
  
Along with this, I’m sending you „Great Expectations“ by Dickens. It’s very depressing, just the way you like it.

  
Stay safe.  
Love,  
**Thomas**

* * *

 

 

**Dear Thomas,**  
  
Paris is nice. I think without the war, it’s a lovely place. But since it’s been liberated just recently, it still feels kind of occupied. At least the city has not been a victim to much destruction. But you can feel the people have had a hard couple of years. They all look so very tired and so many people are wearing mourning for the family members they lost…Paris should be romantic, but at the moment, it’s still mostly sad. But it has the potential to unfold it’s famous old grace again, I believe. The Seine at night was a breathtaking view.

 

You’re right I once said that about French food, but I was wrong. It’s delicious. Not all of it, of course – I will never ever try snails – but I had some lovely fish soup and great bread and it was the best meal I had in ages. (Truth be told, I actually quit the service for Anstruther because I wanted to get away from her but that’s a story for another time.) And sleeping in a real bed…it was heaven, really. I never thought a fucking bed could ever make me this happy. I even daydream about the clean sheets and the thick blanket and the soft mattress. When I get home I’ll spend days just lying around.

 

I guess you made the right conclusions as to where I am now. It is the frontlines. That’s why it took me two weeks to answer you this time. I hope you haven’t been worried sick again but I had no earlier possibility to reply.

  
I really have no idea if we’re already winning this war or not. It feels like I’ve been back here for a lifetime anyway. I just hope this will be over anytime soon. I’m so, so tired of it all. And my injured hand has been acting up recently. I keep letting things slip that I grabbed with it. Fortunately, I am right handed, but I’m afraid my hand will cramp one day while I try to reload my gun. That would be…well let’s say inconvinient.

 

Being a corporal still feels weird. It surprises me how people are actually willing to follow my orders. And frankly, I hate the responsibility. I’m not the right person for responsibilities but now I have to take them. It’s tough. But my men are great people and until now, I didn’t lose one of them. I hope we won’t run out of luck anytime soon.

  
It’s still pretty cold where I am, but the snow is getting less. And thanks to you, I’m not that cold any longer. The other lads envy me a lot for the scarf but even more for the gloves. They tried to make me bet them but I wouldn’t for the world. Not even if it was summer.

  
Reading about your thoughts on your life after Baxter’s departure made me sad. I am also happy for the new couple (please give them my congratulations), but I feel your pain. Loneliness is the worst thing there is and I believe I understand how you feel. I wish I could do anything to mend your pain but you already wrote that I can’t and I’m afraid you are right. At least as long as I am stuck where I am now. I will try to change it once I’m back in England, so be warned! But until then, all I can do is to share your loneliness. Because I might be surrounded by hundreds of comrades and the same amount of enemies, but most of the time, I feel lonely. Like nobody understands me. Even though we are all in this together, we are all alone. The only times I do not feel that way is when I read your letters. I know I keep repeating this, but it is the truth. You are the only person I can come „home“ to after all this. There is nobody else left. All the other lads here have families to return to, partners, jobs. I have nothing, but you. At least I hope I have you and you are not offended if I say that’s ‚home‘ enough for me. Does that make any sense? I guess it doesn’t. But I just had some cheap spirit anyone got from god knows where (some dead German I guess) and I might be a tad drunk. But I’m not on watch-duty tonight so what? If we’re being attacked, I’ll be bloody sober in a second anyway.

  
Oh and the woman and the dog? They have both been killed. I saved him for nothing. I should have gotten him out of there somehow. But I screwed it up just like I always screw up and desert everyone that means something to me. I lost him like I lost my friends and that poor woman…let’s just say my growing hatred for the enemy is the only thing to keep me going at the moment.

Thank you for „Great Expectations“. I’ll start reading it after finishing this. I just hope my lamp will hold up long enough for me to finish one chapter at least. As depressing as the book might be, I’m sure it couldn’t darken my mood any further.

I wish I could just close my eyes and somehow get away from all of this and see you. I miss you. Ever since the day you visited me, I do. Now more than ever. And this bloody war makes everything worse. And everything even more fucking complicated.  
  
I’m sorry. In contrast to mine, your letter was cheerful.  
  
How are you holding up? Did Baxter already move out? Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? Please let me know.  
  
Love  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will get a lighter tone again soon ;)


	27. Chapter twenty-seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas tries to protect Jimmy and Jimmy...well, he is a bitch about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back from my holiday in Italy - which was lovely and great and...man, Italy is awesome - and I come with a new chapter :)  
> Today's a national holiday in Germany (celebrating the German Reunification) so I finally found the time to update.
> 
> I hope you'll like the chapter even though...well, you'll see.

Chapter twenty-seven

**Dear Jimmy** ,

you have to tell someone about the problem with your hand. As soon as possible! You know that one wrong move, one tiny mistake, one second spend too long on reloading your gun could kill you. So please, please be reasonable for once and tell your seargent. I know you want to fulfill your duty but if your hand keeps acting up and makes it hard for you to fight, you are endangering your life. If it's really as bad as it sounded in your letter, you should not be fighting at the frontlines. I beg you Jimmy, be careful and think of yourself for once. You bravely served your duty for months even after nearly dying of the injuries you suffered while saving a comrade. Giving up now would not be a disgrace but the right thing to do. I worry about you, now more than ever and I don't even want to think about you getting injured again because you are too proud and selfless to admit that you are hurting and unable to keep going like before. Don't be an idiot Jimmy. For once. If not for yourself, do it for me. I cannot lose you. The bare thought horrifies me. I don't know what I would do if you got killed. And I don't want to ever find out.

I'm glad you enjoyed your short stay in Paris. I never knew you left Anstruther's service because you wanted to get away from her. I alway thought you liked her.

I had been worried sick before I received your letter but I do understand you cannot reply any quicker so please do not stress yourself. I know you already got enough other problems at hand. 

You must be exhausted from all the fighting and marching and sleeping in holes. I hope you will find some rest when the war is over. If there’s anything I can do for you once you return, just let me know.

I'm writing you this letter on my first evening completely alone at Downton. The family has gone out for the night (they are having dinner with Atticus Aldridge‘s family who currently rented a placed nearby to be closer to their son) and Baxter has moved out yesterday and left before dinnertime. I wish I could say it isn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I feel more alone than ever before. I spent most of the evening wandering through the empty house, listening to the incredible silence that’s hanging in the air. The place has never felt bigger and never less like a home than today. There is no longer any companion sharing the servants floor with me. The hallway looks like a (very clean) wasteland full of dust and long forgotten memories. It’s like the house is dead and I am the only remaining ghost haunting its vast, endless hallways.

Baxter‘s wedding was nice but I have to admit I left early even though the family had given me the day off. I went to a pub in Rippon and got really, really drunk. To be honest I was so drunk I spent the night wandering about the town – or better staggering, because I could not really walk straight any longer – until the sun rose and I caught the first train back to Downton. And now, after a hungover day I sit here on this desk that has once been Carson’s, writing this letter, drinking again and pitying myself.   
  
I know I shouldn’t. I have a roof over my head and some savings, I have a job and kind employers, I have friends and nobody is trying to hurt or kill me. I should be grateful. I should be content, if not happy. But I’m not. I’m miserable. And I hate myself for feeling that way. Or for telling you about it. But Jimmy, I…you seem to be the only person I can turn to in this darkness. You are the only one who understands. You are a kindred spirit, you know loneliness. Anna doesn’t. She knows grief, but not being alone. She always had Bates. Baxter is newly wed and happy. I don’t have family. But I have you. And you have me. You can always rely on me, James. I promise.

Try to hold on. Your agony will soon be over,  I am sure. And after the war you can start anew, building a life you want to live. I believe the worst is behind you. At least if you come to your senses and tell your superiors about your problems with your hand.

I’m terribly sorry the woman and the dog did not make it. But please stop blaming yourself. You never let them down. You had to leave the dog behind and it was not your place to protect the woman. It’s horrible that they have been killed and I understand your grief but none of this is your fault. Stop saying that you let people down. As far as I know, you never let anyone down. Your friends have not been killed because of you. I know you feel guilty about surviving the blitz while they died but you have to stop blaming yourself. I’m sure none of them would want you to beat yourself up for not being at their side that night. I’m sure they’d be glad that you survived. You did not let them down. That you lived while they were killed was nothing but coincidence, Jimmy. You could’t have done anything about it. Just like you could’t have done anything to save the dog and the woman. You did what you could. Their death is not on you.

I hope „Great Expectations“ did not make you even more gloomy. Are you sure I shouldn’t send you anything a little more cheerful? I still have some Oscar Wild books lying around that I could send you if you like.

Please try to keep your head up and let me know if I can do anything to help.  
  
Love  
**Thomas**

* * *

  
  
**Dear Thomas** ,

I cannot and will not tell anyone about my hand. It’s really not that bad. I guess it’s gonna get better again once it gets warmer. And even if it doesn’t, I cannot do this to my unit. They would for sure withdraw me from the frontlines and every man is needed here. My unit needs me. We trust each other. I will not let my comrades down and I wish I hadn’t told you about my hand in the first place. It’s really not as much as a drama as you seem to think. I know you mean well, but I am a grown man fully capable of making my own decisions. I don’t need to be protected.

You really thought I liked Anstruther? Rather the opposite. She was a mean snitch, but a seductive one. As I already mentioned plenty of times, I was young and stupid and easy to be influenced. I liked the attention she gave me despite her being rich and me being poor and just an orphaned servant. That’s all there ever was. I never had any feelings for her.

I’m sorry it took me another two weeks to reply. Field post has been slow lately and I have been very busy killing Germans.

You’re right, I am exhausted, but everyone here is. Anything apart from firing guns and hiding from enemies will be a relaxation once this is over. If it ever will be.

I understand that your new situation is hard for you but you will pull through. You will adapt to the new circumstances like you always do.

You will never make me believe that those deaths were not on me. I could have prevented every single one of them. Letting people down and hurting them is all I ever do.  
  


I have no time for reading any more at the moment so I won’t need more books anytime soon.

I have to finish and get to my next briefing.  
  
**Jimmy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is still very dark but I'm already writing on the next chapter, trying not to make the wait too long.  
> And if you feel like hitting Jimmy in the face...I understand, because I feel like that too. He really is an idiot.


	28. Chapter twenty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is hurt and Jimmy is sorry. Enough to Tell Thomas why he really lashed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit it took a while to write this chapter since the story is really kind of depressing to write at this point. Buuuut I finished it nevertheless and hope you'll like it.  
> The next chapter will be significantly less depressing, I promise ;)

Chapter twenty-eight

**Dear Jimmy** ,

you are being an idiot. An irresponsible, overly dutiful idiot. I know you are an „adult“ making his „own decisions“. But as a friend I believe I have every right to tell you that your decision is not only stupid, but dangerous. Do you really think you are doing your comrades a favor by staying on duty despite not really being up for it? What if you try to provide barrage and fail to reload your gun? Would that help anyone? You’re pretty obsessed with not letting people down but you’re not doing anyone a favor. Least of all yourself.

I’m no genius, but I very well understood from your last letter that you were angry with me. But I don’t care. I have always been honest with you so if you really consider me your friend, you will have to deal with it. I know you’ve been through a lot and every new day feels like some kind of hell to you. I know your life is hard at the moment. I understand your desparation. But please don’t treat me like an undesired acquaintance. We’ve been there and I don’t want to go back.

If you want to talk about the things that obviously bother you a lot I will always be there to listen. But if you don’t want any more advice from a stupid old butler, let me know and I’ll leave you be.

Nevertheless…  
Love  
**Thomas**  


* * *

 

 

**Dear Thomas** ,  
  
how do I start this?  
First of all: You were right all along. Of course you were. My hand was a real problem. Its stiffness got worse the more I tried to ignore it and I believe I would have maybe caused some kind of catastrophy had I not been caught by my own seargent. He noticed my problems to activate a grenade one day and immediately send me back to camp to see a medic. The medic then send me to a field hospital and the doctor there declared me unfit for frontline-duty within fifteen minutes. I even failed to close my fingers into a bloody fist. He says I did not give my hand enough time to heal and recover and might have done even more damage by overusing it. So I have been pulled away from the battlefield and am now no longer in my old position. I got moved to another unit further away from the frontline and serve as a supply-driver at the moment.

You were right. I was wrong. My old seargent gave me hell for not noting him about my problem, telling me that I endangered the whole squad and I know now that is true.

You are right, I felt offended by you calling me out for my stupidity and I was indeed an overly dutiful idiot.

My last letter…I don’t know what I was thinking. I was being an insensitive dick and there’s nothing to apologize my behaviour. But to explain myself, I was in a dark place the last time I wrote you. I know that is no reason to treat you the way I did. War is bringing out the worst in me from time to time and I hope you can forgive me. You were totally right advising me to tell someone about my problem and it was your right as a friend to call me out for my behaviour. I know you wanted to protect me and I’m sorry I disparaged this earlier. I am touched that you try to help stopping me from accidentially killing myself. I was angry with myself and projected that on you. I didn’t want to hear the truth you were telling and since I am a true master of self-denial it took me a while to figure it out. To sum it up: I was a fucking prick who hurt you once more and I am really very sorry. I wish I could turn back time and take my last letter back.

When I last wrote you, I had just lost someone under my command. His name was Connor. He was just 23 years old. A good, clever kid with a nasty kind of humour and a thick northern accent. Always made everybody laugh and despite being an asshole from time to time, he was kind. Courageous. Loyal. Had a girlfriend waiting for him back home. But then he got hit by a bullet in the chest. I stood right next to him when it happened and pulled him behind cover, tried to stop the bleeding as best as I could and called for a medic, but he was just too badly injured. I held hime while he died. It was horrible watching the life drenching out of his body and leaving his eyes. I always worried that someone might someday have to send my goodbye-letter to you but now I was the one who had to send that kind of letter to a young woman waiting for her fiancé to come back home, destroying all her hopes and dreams of a happy ever after. He made me promise I would post it with the last words he was able to whisper. Handed me the letter from his pocket and grabbed my hand so I couldn’t leave him. He was so scared. I cannot describe the terror I felt when he stopped breathing just a second before the medic finally arrived. I just closed his empty eyes, put his letter in my own pocket and headed back into battle. Ever since then I can’t help but ask myself why he was the one getting hit. I stood right next to him. It could have been me. Why wasn’t it? Why did he have to die? Who gets to decide who’s luck rund out when? It all seems so unjust and illogical. Why did I once survive being badly wounded while he bled out within minutes? Why am I always the lucky bastard that survives but has to watch the others suffer and die? Those questions were stuck in my mind while I kept on serving my duty that night. And they’ve stayed there ever since. We conquered the position that night and when I could not sleep afterwards, I read your letter again and got angry with me and the world and everything and replyed. I took my sadness and anger and put it in that letter, accusing you of being overprotective. I shouldn’t have. I should have told you what really bothered me like I usually do. I know that now because I remember that I can always turn to you, no matter what. I just couldn’t that day because I hated myself too much. There had been too much loss. The woman, the dog, Connor. I already felt like I let everyone around me down and your suggestion to tell someone about my hand just fueled that feeling and made me write things I regretted shortly after posting the letter. I promise I will try to be a less horrible friend in the future. Maybe I am different from when we worked at Downton together but my hot temper still sometimes gets the better of me and then I am the arse I always used to be.  
To cut a long story short: Please forgive me, Thomas.

Enough of me myself and my self-centered blabbering. How are you? Does the house still feel so very empty? How are you holding up? Are you alright? I do very well understand your loneliness. Yes, you are right, we are kindred spirits. We know what it means to truly be alone in this world. But maybe we are each others key to stop loneliness for good one day. I would like to find that out if you’ll let me. Now that I am no longer in constant danger of being killed, I truly believe that I will be back to England in one piece and I am looking forward to it. I want to see you as soon as possible when I get back and finally be there for you just as you have been there for me all these last months. But please, if you feel like you cannot hold on any longer in the meantime, contact me or – since I still am too far away – turn to Anna and tell her how you feel. It’s no shame to need a friend while your life is changing around you. You might feel alone, but you are not. We are all here for you. And that will never change, I am sure.

I finished „Great Expectations“. You were right, it was kind of depressing and I could actually use something with a lighter touch for a change. Wild sounds good since I already liked „The picture of Dorian Grey“ so much. So please send me another copy of his books if you can.

I have to close now, my shift starts in five minutes and I still have to load my truck.   
I hope I haven’t pushed you away too far. I wouldn’t know what to do if you stopped writing me for good.

Love (twice as much as usual, because I didn’t write it last time)  
**Jimmy**

* * *

 

  
**Dear Anna** ,

you must be wondering why I am writing you again but it is about Thomas. I worry about him. He wrote me that he was in despair in one of his last letters to me but I didn’t comfort him about it. It’s a long story but I was being as asshole and maybe made him feel even worse. I know that darkness nearly swallowed him in the past so I worry this might happen again.

He feels incredibly lonely at Downton now that Baxter has moved out and I can’t really do anything against it from across the channel. So I am turning to you. I know you are a great friend to him but I also know that he very often tries to keep his feelings to himself and believes that he has to cope with them on his own. Can you please check on him every now and then? Invite him over a little more often maybe? I think he really needs a friend at the moment.

Sorry for bothering you. Maybe you already knew about it, I just wanted to make sure Thomas doesn’t have to go through this without anyone helping him out.   
  
I hope you and your family are well and the hotel is running smoothly.  
  
Kind regards  
**Jimmy Kent**

* * *

 

  
**Dear Jimmy** ,

please do not worry, Thomas is alright. I already knew about Thomas‘ loneliness because he did turn to me right after Baxter’s wedding. He might be sad but he is holding up great, despite the lack of support from your side. He told me about your little argument and at first, I was angry. But then again, how could I know how many horrors you must have been through in these last months? You’ve suffered and of course that makes you sad and sometimes angry.  

Thomas also told me that you wrote him a very long letter apologizing and explaining yourself. He told me about your losses and I am so sorry, Jimmy. Please believe me when I say that I know what it is like to feel like there is nothing but darkness left. Believe me when I say there isn’t. There is always some light. I have not been to war but I know that life can make you desperate. It’s still worth holding on. It always is. You have Thomas waiting for you. Whenever he speaks about you, his eyes light up and his lips twitch into the happiest little smile I’ve ever seen on his face. Try to think of that when grief starts eating you up.

Take good care of yourself, James.

Kind regards  
**Anna**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the first version of this chapter, Anna was really very angry with Jimmy and Thomas was way more harsh in his reply to Jimmy. But then I read your comments on the last chapter and felt like the two are way to compassionate not to understand Jimmy's misery and rewrote the whole thing. So thank you for your feedback. It really always helps me ;)


	29. Chapter twenty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas hopes that Jimmy will return to England soon.  
> Jimmy barely holds his feelings back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just forced myself to proofread this despite being incredibly tired. I was on a (great) concert yesterday night and feel a bit hungover but I did not want to keep you waiting soooo here we go.

Chapter twenty-nine

**Dear Jimmy** ,

I am so sorry to hear about all that you have been through. And I’m sorry I wasn’t very sympathetic when I last replyed to you. I know now that you did not mean to hurt me so there really is nothing for me to forgive you. I am not angry with you. I was just so incredibly worried that something could happen to you that I forgot the horrors you see every day at war and I am sorry.

I understand that you’re asking yourself why things happen the way they do and unfortunately I even understand what you mean when you say that you don’t understand why you are always lucky enough to survive while others are not. Life is never fair and war especially isn’t. I don’t believe in faith and therefore I think it’s nothing but coincidence. One man lives, another man dies. It’s cruel, but that’s the way it is and we can never change that. That is depressing. But on the other hand – had you been the man that died, would you want every one else surviving to feel miserable for not being dead.? I bet you wouldn‘t. You would believe them to be ungrateful. You’d want people to hold on to life even dearer. You cannot bring people back from the dead just by suffering, Jimmy. But you can honor their sacrifice by accepting the gift of survival, however unpleasant and undeserved it may feel at first.

Think about all the lives you saved, Jimmy. By helping to free countries from the Nazis. By protecting your former seargent from that grenade. By leading your men the best way you could. By giving the starved dog a little more time, a little more love. Life is not only about ist length. It’s about what happens while we are alive. How we are being treated. And you did your best to be a good friend, a good comrade to everyone around you. Yes, maybe you were different when you were young but that was a very long time ago and everyone is stupid in his youth. You deserve living, Jimmy. As much as everyone and in my eyes even more. Because you are goodhearted and kind and strong. I know you don’t see yourself that way but I do. I wish you could see yourself the way I do for just one day.

I’m glad you have been forced away from the frontlines. I know you might hate it, but I feel like someone lifted a rock from my chest. I believe you will return home, Jimmy. And I can’t wait for it.

How are you feeling at the moment? Is your hand getting better again? Are you still so very angry and sad? How does your new position suit you? Do you miss your old comrades?

I am feeling a little better living on my own now. It’s still weird and I cannot say I like it, but the empty servants floor no longer scares me. With the family around, Downton is still very much alive and I’m getting used to my lonely dinners faster than I thought I would. Maybe I am even a little too good at being alone. But then again, I‘ve understood now that I am not truly alone. I have you and I still work with Baxter and then there’s Anna and her kids and in some weird way I also have the family. They might be my employers, but they feel like more than that.

Talking about the family – Master George just wrote that he and Sybil’s husband will be returning England shortly as it seems. Do you believe you might be send back soon as well? I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you are relieved from your duty soon.

I’ll attach my copy of „The importance of being earnest“ by Oscar Wilde to this letter. It is a play and not a novel but it is indeed very, very funny and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Maybe it helps taking your mind off war for a bit at least.

Love   
**Thomas**  


* * *

 

**My dear Thomas** ,

Thank you for being so very understanding and supportive. I really don’t deserve you but I’m thankful to have you in my life. I cannot imagine how I would have survived the last months without you. I don’t even know how I managed to keep on living my life for nearly 20 years without you in it. Please don’t doubt or question me when I say that I want you to never dissapear from my life again. That’d be impossible.

You’re right, I am ungrateful and I know the dead wouldn’t want me to question my own fate of survival (I do believe in fate by the way). But it’s hard to stay rational when guilt overwhelmes you. I guess I will just need some time to get over all the things I did and witnessed. How did you get better after returning from war? Is there anything one can do to forget about all the blood and screaming and dirt and fear?

Thank you for all the kind things you said about me. I blushed like a schoolgirl reading your last letter and my ego felt blissfully petted. I also wish you could see yourself with my eyes one day and finally believe me that you are one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. But I only got words to show you. At least for now.

I have to admit I’m glad I’m no longer serving at the frontlines. I hated being pulled from there at first because I didn’t want to abandon my comrades but looking back now I was no longer helping them. I was becoming a burden. I did what I could until I couldn’t anymore and I stopped being ashamed. I’m still doing something useful and it’s nice to see people’s faces light up when they see me and my truck because we mean food and new ammunition. I like my new duties. They are way easier than all that fighting and I finally get plenty of sleep and frequent hot showers, get to wash my clothes and even sleep in a proper bed with my own pillow and blanket. I’m having three actual meals everyday and my new comrades are quiet, but friendly. All of us here have been too badly injured in battle to keep fighting at the frontlines and so there is some kind of silent understanding amongst us. I don’t miss the fighting one bit. I don’t even miss my comrades. Because not seing them any longer means I don’t have to watch another one of them die. I still hope they all return safely, but I know that’s naive.

My hand…it’s okay. It’s not really getting better yet but I still have hope. I believe it just needs a break. Apart from that, I am good.

I’m glad to hear that you are kind of okay with your new situation at Downton. But don’t settle too much inside your aloneness. I’m coming for you, Thomas Barrow. And I will not allow you to be lonely again as soon as I do.

Speaking of coming home…I have hope that my services will soon no longer be needed. I’m hearing rumours that the war is coming to an end. Plenty of areas of Germany are free again and it’s really only a question of time until the Nazi bastards finally surrender and the slaughtering is over. I cannot exactly say when I will get to come back, but I think it will be rather sooner than later.

As much as I cannot really believe yet that I will be returning to England soon, I’m still incredibly happy about it.

I only have one question for you: Do you still want to see me, when I return? Because I know I want to see you. Badly. There are so many things I need to tell you and that I need to do…But if you have any reason to want me to stay away, please let me know and I’ll force myself to leave you be.

I just reread all of your many letters and decided to write all the things we wanted to do together down so we don’t forget about any of them. Because I really want to do all of them. With you. So here’s the list:

  1. Have a smoke together
  2. Me helping out as a footmen (should the family allow it)
  3. Go see a movie together (without Baxter preferably, if I’m being honest)
  4. Go to the beach together, watch people, have icecream, sunbathe
  5. Play the piano, teach you to play
  6. You showing me the house you bought and showing me around the village (I want to see that bookstore!)
  7. Watch that bloody moon together finally (I just added that because it felt neccessary)
  8. Travel and see as much of the world as we possibly can (maybe not immediately after I return, but this way we have a nice long-term-goal)



Did I forget anything we talked about in the past? Please feel free to add anything you want. I have plenty of things to add to this but I’ll do that in person.

I loved „The importance of being earnest“. It was hilarious. And yes, it cheered me up.  
  
I hope everything is going well at Downton and you are okay.   
And I hope I’ll soon be there to witness it myself.

Love  
**Jimmy**  
  
PS: Don’t worry about accomodation when I visit, please. I know the family might have problems with having me around but I heard about a nice woman called Anna Bates that owns a Hotel in Rippon and I’m sure she’ll have a room for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be guessing where this is heading, aren't you? :)


	30. Chapter thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy moves.  
> Thomas' evening is disturbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ages to write this chapter because I wrote it and deleted and rewrote it and changed it and...this is like the third version of it and I finally feel ready to upload it.  
> Sorry this took so long, but I wanted this to be good 'cause we're nearing the core of the story and since I've come to love writing it so much, I hope I can write it the way I've imagined it for months ;)
> 
> Anyway: Enjoy!

Chapter thirty

Jimmy shivered when the wind hit his face. Caught somewhere between disbelief and fear, he held his shaking left hand inside his right and fixed his eyes on the horizon. The early spring sunlight warmed his face and he closed his eyes, felt the cold melting from his features. When he opened his eyes again, blinking against all the brightness, they started moving and he had to sit down. His gaze was glued to the horizon in front of him again, trying not to look back. His bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, being nervously chewed upon. When he knew everything was out of sight, he let out a shivering sigh and hastily wiped the tear that had escaped his eye.

Thomas sat on his favorite rocking chair by the fireplace and rubbed his eyes while taking a puff from the cigarette in his other hand. It was late and he was tired from a very stressful day, but he wanted to answer Jimmy’s last letter before going to bed. He just wasn’t sure what to write. Taking the letter out of  the pocket of his trousers, he unfolded it to read it for the fourth time since it had arrived a couple of days before. Once he finished reading with a confused smile on his lips and a frown on his forehead, he put his cigarette out in the ashtray of the table next to him and prepared himself to get up when he suddenly heard a knock on the backdoor. He put the letter back in his trousers with a sigh and walked to the backdoor frowning. Visitors at this time of the day mostly meant trouble and he was way too tired for trouble. There was another knock at the door, more demanding this time and Thomas rolled his eyes. „I’m coming!“ he yelled, already nearly touching the doornob and adding a „for fuck’s sake“ under his breath. He finally opened the door, expecting some annoying villager or some stranger caught up in any upstairs-drama he didn’t know about yet. But when he finally recognized the person standing in the darkness on the doorstep, Thomas froze and opened his mouth without saying a word. His heart seemed to skip a beat and for a moment, all he could do was to stare at the figure in the rain who’s face hesistantly lit up at the sight of him. Thomas finally snapped back into reality and managed to mutter the person‘s name in utter surprise.  
„Jimmy?“  
The man on the other side of the door, wearing a soaked uniform with a huge, wet backpack and blinking against the raindrops falling on his head just nodded and swallowed to find his hoarse voice in his body.  
„Hello Thomas.“  
The soldier hesitated another second before he made a step forward into the dim light falling through the darkness from inside the house.  
Thomas looked at him in disbelief and couldn’t speak so he just stared at Jimmy, making a step towards him without noticing and flinched at the raindrops suddenly falling on his face. Jimmy smiled his brightest smile only inches away from his face and Thomas nearly took a step back, afraid what he might do otherwise, when Jimmy suddenly grabbed his shoulders to pull a paralized Thomas into a tight, wet hug.  
At first, Thomas stiffened inside the younger man’s embrace, but when he felt Jimmy leaning his head against his shoulder and letting his hands rest at his hips, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him away from the rain and into the house.

Thomas felt his heart racing and his eyes turning wet behind his eyelids. His brain tried to tell him that the way he clenched Jimmy’s back was inappropriate, but he couldn’t think straight. He felt Jimmy’s weight against his chest, his tight embrace and his arms that held onto Thomas like his life depended on it. He stood there, hugging the slightly shivering Jimmy, breathing in his scent and couldn’t quite believe it was true.

Meanwhile, Jimmy leaned into Thomas, cliging to him and trying to keep himself from doing something rash, from getting carried away with the moment. His heart hammered in his chest like it was trying to escape the cage it had been held at all those months and years and he had to gulp back a sob that was trying to escape his throat.

They held each other in silence for a full minute, hearts pounding, and Thomas even allowed himself to bury his face in Jimmy’s wet hair until Jimmy finally pulled away hesistantly, clearing his throat and throwing the door close behind himself.  
„Sorry for that.“  
Jimmy pointed at Thomas‘ now wet shirt and damp hair, slightly smiling.  
Thomas chuckled with disbelief, his voice hoarse, and made a throwing gesture. „I don’t bloody care.“  
The younger man just grinned and looked to the floor while Thomas followed his gaze and noticed the puddle building beneath his feet.  
„God, you are soaked. Come, sit by the fire and I’ll organize some dry clothes for you.“  
He pointed in the direction of the servant’s room and let Jimmy lead the way.  
„Here. Sit. You must be tired.“  
He pointed to his rocking chair and Jimmy let himself fall into it immediately, looking around the room. „This place hasn’t changed one bit.“  
„Stay were you are. I will be back in a second and then I want to hear how the hell you got here.“  
He wanted to get to the stairs when he heard steps and Lady Mary shouting his name.  
„Barrow? Are you still up?“  
She had made her way to the servants room berfore Thomas could walk up to her and hold her back. „Thank god, there you are. I just remembered that Lady Edith announced that she was coming to visit with her family tomorrow for George’s and Felix‘ return. So it will be a big family dinner tomorrow and it would be great if you could find a footman for the night. Do you think you could find any? Just for the night of celebration? I know I should have told you earlier but I was just so happy to hear that my son will be back that I…“ She finally looked past the butler and saw Jimmy, sitting in the rocking chair unmoving and dripping wet. „Oh.“  
The second her eyes landed on Jimmy, he was up on his feet, looking to the floor.  
Thomas cleared his throat uncomfortably and lifted his hands in defence.  
„Mylady, I…“  
„Good evening Mr. Kent. Nice to see you.“  
Mary Crawley made a few steps towards the former servant and stretched out her hand.  
He slightly bowed and shook it. „Good evening, Mylady. I’m sorry, I…“  
She interrupted him.  
„Kent, you are soaking. We need to get you into something dry before you catch the flu. Barrow, go and get some clothes for Mr. Kent.“  
„Mylady, I…“  
„And after Mr. Kent has warmed up, you’ll give him whichever room you find suiting. He will be our guest for the night.“  
Jimmy cleared his throat and spoke up. „Mylady, I couldn’t possibly accept your hospitality. It is very generous of you, but I…“  
„You’d rather get out in that weather again and die of pneumonia after surviving the war? No, no, no. You served your country Mr. Kent and offering you a room for the night is the least I can do to thank you for your sacrifice.“  
Jimmy bit his lip to stop himself from grinning. „Thank you, Mylady. But I’d feel better if I could return the favour.“  
„What do you mean?“ Lady Mary’s eyebrows lifted in suspicion, just the way Jimmy remembered it.  
„I heard you asking Mr. Barrow to organize a footman for tomorrow’s dinner. I’d like to volunteer.“  
Thomas wanted to say something but he was paralized. All he could do was to try and keep his demeanor looking calm and collected.  
Meanwhile, Mary Crawley could not stop herself from laughing. „That’s awfully kind of you, Mr. Kent, but I…“  
„It’s Jimmy, Mylady. I’d be glad to help out if I may. I know it’s been a long time since I worked here but I think I remember the neccessary things of my old profession. But should you have objections to my proposal rooted in the reason for my parting back in the day…“  
She lifted her hands in defence. „No. I don’t have any objections, Jimmy. If you’d really be so kind to help out, I’d be very happy. I’m sure my family will be very glad to see you. You’re sure you’re free tomorrow evening?“  
„Absolutely sure, Mylady.“  
She nodded, shooting Barrow a look of barely covered amusement.  
„Great. Well, the advice for some dry clothing still stands.“  
She looked at a very confused Thomas and smiled a little.  
„And now I’ll leave you two be. I think you have some catching up to do. Goodnight Mr. Kent. Goodnight Barrow.“  
She walked out of the room with twitching lips, barely containing a grin.  
  
They heard lady Mary walk back up the stairs and the door closing behind her and only then, Thomas exhaled a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.

"What was that?" Jimmy lifted his brows and tried not to burst into laughter.

Thomas shrugged and frowned. "I have no idea. What were you thinking, offering to help out as a footman?“  
„Well it is point two on the list, isn’t it?“  
„What list?“  
„The list of things to do if I ever leave this war alive. Which I did.“  
Thomas sighed and smiled, nodding.  
„You did.“  
They stared at each other, lips twitching into smiles, until Thomas cleared his throat.  
„I'll better follow my orders and get you some dry clothing."  
"No worries, the fire will dry me off."  
But Thomas was already out the door.  
Jimmy sat in his chair looking around and shifting uneasy from side to side. He shivered a bit, not only because the rain had frozen him to the core but also because he was nervous.  
Trying to contain the mild anxiety that started creeping up his spine, he got back to his feet and stood in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them and dispel the stiffness in his left hand's fingers.  
He had just stopped shivering when he heard steps behind him and turned around to see Thomas standing in front of him, some trousers, an undershirt and a shirt in hand.  
"I’m not sure if these will fit you but they are clean and if you roll up the sleeves they should do. If you give me your uniform I can hang it up to dry overnight."  
He handed Jimmy the clothes and turned away to leave the room.  
"Where are you going?"  
"Come find me at the kitchen when you’re ready."  
Thomas nodded briefly and went back through the door, leaving behind a slightly confused Jimmy who started to get out of his wet uniform immediately.

Once he was standing in front of the fireplace in his briefs, he grabbed the undershirt from the chair where Thomas had placed it and couldn’t stop himself from bringing the soft fabric up to his face, faintly smelling the odour that had embraced him when he had hugged Thomas. He smiled, pulled the shirt over his head, slipped into the pants and shirt, rolled the sleeves up and took a deep breath before he made his way over to the kitchen. He found Thomas standing at the stove, lifting the kettle and placing it on the counter at the middle of the room, next to two cups awaiting its hot contents.

  
Jimmy watched him from the door, a smile on his lips. He saw Thomas reach up to a biscuit barrell and watched him arrange some of them on a plate next to the cups, pouring the tea and adding milk to only one of the cups while a cube of sugar landed in the other one.   
„You still remember it.“  
Thomas, who had been completely oblivious that he was being watched, flinched a bit and turned around to face him. „How could I forget about your bad habit of ruining perfectly fine tea with unneccessary sugar?“  
Jimmy walked over to the counter, reaching for his cup. „I drink to that.“  
He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip of the burning hot liquid.  
„You still like burning your tongue apparently“, Thomas smiled over his own steaming cup.  
„Bad habits die hard.“ He took another sip and sighed. „That’s the best bloody tea I’ve had in my whole fucking life.“  
Thomas chuckled. „Are the clothes okay for tonight?“  
Jimmy nodded and rested his teacup on the counter when he felt his left hand starting to shake slightly. „Yes, thank you. They’re great.“  
Thomas smiled at him again, his eyes gleaming. Jimmy had never seen the other man smile so brightly that frequent and it was contagious. The younger man reached for a biscuit, took a bite and groaned. „God damn it this is incredible….“  
„It’s just a biscuit.“  
„Just a biscuit? A couple of weeks ago, I would’ve killed for a fucking biscuit. Literally. And for a decent cup of tea. This is…heaven.“ He stuffed the rest oft he biscuit inside his mouth and grinned.  
„Can I offer you anything else? I might still have some leftovers from dinner.“  
„No, I’m not hungry.“  
„Says the man who just nearly swallowed a whole biscuit at once.“  
„That was just the greed for sweets.“  
„Still a sweet-tooth?“  
„You bet.“  
They fell silent again, Thomas leaning against the stove with his back, trying to keep himself together while all he wanted to do was to repeat that bloody hug that had nearly send him into cardiac arrest. Meanwhile, Jimmy crossed his arms in front of his chest, holding onto himself and trying to hide his shaking left hand. There was so much he wanted to say that he didn’t know what to say at all and in which order. His feelings rendered him nearly speechless despite all there was to be revealed. He wanted to confess his heart to Thomas but instead there he was, talking about bloody food. In his mind, he banged his head against the wall, telling himself that he was an idiot, begging himself ‚come on Jimmy, say something at least. You don’t have to tell him everything tonight but just say something.‘.  
Eventually, Thomas cleared his throat again, killing the awkward silence between them.  
„You must be tired.“  
„A bit, but I…“  
„I made you the bed in your old room.“  
Jimmy tried to hold back a yawn. „Thank you, but before I go to bed, I just…I wanted to say…“  
Thomas looked at him, swallowed and looked to the floor. „What is it, Jimmy?“  
„I…“ Jimmy wanted to say it. Everything. Right then and there. But it was late and he was tired and overwhelmed and he had already planned how to do it. So trying to stick to his plan, he held himself back and swallowed all the words stuck in his heart.  
„I’m very happy to see you, Thomas, really.“  
Thomas kneaded his hands and looked tot he floor again. „I’m glad you came. I never thought you’d be coming so soon…had I known, I would’ve…“  
„No, it’s perfect, really. I wanted it to be a surprise. That’s why I came here immediately after stepping off the ship.“ He bit his lip. He hadn’t wanted to admit that.  
„Did you just come back from across the channel?“  
Jimmy nodded. „Boarded the boat this morning. Headed straight to Downton without stopping at London first. That’s why I was still wearing that bloody uniform.“  
Thomas blinked, taken aback.  
„You came here first, of all places?“  
Jimmy hesitated a second, before his eyes darted away, mustering the wooden counter with fake interest. „Of course.“  
„But…why?“  
„I just had to.“  
Thomas raised his brows and smiled.  
„It’s really, really good to see you Jimmy. I mean it.“  
The younger man looked up again, trying to meet his eyes, but Thomas looked away.  
„I missed you, Thomas. I honestly thought the day would never come, but here we are.“  
„Yes.“ Thomas finally lifted his gaze and noticed that Jimmy was suddenly standing just an arms lenght away from him, close enough to be touched. He swallowed and looked away again.  
„And now you’ll have to work under my thumb tomorrow.“  
Jimmy laughed. „I’ll be happy to do so, Mr. Barrow.“  
„You’re sure you want to?“  
„Very sure.“  
„It is a tad odd, you must admit.“  
„But in a good way.“  
„Indeed.“  
„When will the dinner start?“  
„It’s planned for 6 p.m.“  
„How long do you think it might last?“  
„Since they will be celebrating the return of Master George and Lady Sybil’s husband…the early morning?“  
„That’s…long.“  
Thomas saw Jimmy’s raised brows and laughed.  
„They won’t be dining all night. Our services will only be needed until around 9 p.m., I believe. The cleaning will be done by the maids in the morning.“  
„Good. Do you think you’ll have some…time afterwards?“  
„What for?“  
„To…you know…talk.“  
Thomas nodded, frowning. „Of course.“  
„Good.“  
„Is this about the ‚thing‘ you couldn’t tell me in a letter?“  
„Kind of.“  
Thomas looked up again and immediately felt his pulse racing.  
„Tomorrow night then, after dinner.“  
Thomas nodded, trying to hide his irritation.  
They finished their tea in silence and since Jimmy yawned every two seconds, Thomas gently shoved him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the servant’s floor the second they had emptied their cups.

 

Thomas opened the door to Jimmy’s old room, taking a step back and gesturing towards the bed. „You’ll notice that the room hasn‘t changed much since you left.“  
Jimmy entered the room and looked around. „Like I never left at all.“  
Thomas looked at him, smiling. „Yes.“  
Their eyes met and Jimmy scratched the back of his head.  
„I…thank you.“  
„Let me know if you need anything.“  
Thomas attempted to break their eye-contact and turn on his heel but Jimmy cleared his throat, holding him back with a firm stare.  
„I’ll just get my uniform and bag up here. My whole stuff is in there.“  
„I can get it for you.“  
„No, please. I’m sure you’ve had a long day. I’ll go get it.“  
Thomas shrugged. „Fine. Goodnight then, Jimmy.“  
Jimmy made a few steps towards him, resting his hand on the older man’s shoulder, the expression on his face unreadable to Thomas.  
„Goodnight, Thomas. See you in the morning.“  
His lips parted into another beaming smile, reveiling his teeth and Thomas couldn’t resist smiling back before he finally forced himself to turn away and go to his room.  
  
After he had heard Thomas‘ door close behind him, Jimmy hurried back down to the servants room that lay in darkness in front of him. He switched on the light and took a deep breath. Downton still smelled the same, after all these years. Like polished wood and tea and tobacco. Jimmy slowly walked over to his uniform and bag in front of the fireplace, checking his pockets for the bundle of closely written pages he had come down here for. It was where it had always been, in the breast-pocket of his uniform. He sighed with relief and wanted to switch the light off to return to his room, uniform and bag in hand, before his eyes caught sight of the piano. He stopped in his movement and walked over to the instrument, dropping his stuff and softly letting his fingers wander over its closed lid, noticing it wasn’t dusty at all. Before he could think about it, he caught himself opening the lid and touching the keys without pressing them. He felt drawn to the old instrument and his mind was flooded by all the old memories attached to it. He sat down on the wooden stool in front of it and closed his eyes, thinking about the day that he played and Thomas had firmly pressed his shoulder, sending shivers through his whole body. He remembered the evenings he had come here when he couldn’t sleep. Sitting here in the same silence that was hanging in the empty room right now. And just like now, he had let his hands wander over the keys, imagining the noises they’d make if they were pushed down, hearing the melody in his mind and practicing playing without making any noise. He thought about the rare occasions when he had found the time to play this old piano without being watched. Playing with melodies that he had come up in his head. Melodies that nobody ever heard. His mind wandered further, reminding him of his very own piano standing in his London flat where he played, a glas of cheap whiskey standing on top of it, his friends chanting drunkenly in the background. His hands stopped and hastily closed the piano’s lid without Jimmy even noticing. He sighed, pushing the memories away and opened his now wet eyes, drying them with the sleeve of the shirt Thomas had lent him. Picking up his stuff from the floor, he finally stood up and returned to his old room where he hang his uniform to dry and pulled the paperbundle from his chest-pocket, taking it to bed with him. He read and reread the messy lines of his unsteady handwriting, trying to come up with a way to explain them to Thomas tomorrow. He fell asleep over them eventually without ever turning the light off.

  
That night, Thomas couldn’t find any sleep. He lay in his bed, a confused smile on his lips and stared at the ceiling. A part of him couldn’t believe that Jimmy was actually sleeping a couple of doors down the hallway. That he was back alive in one piece and finally out of danger. A part of Thomas thought that it was possibly all a daydream and once he fell asleep, he’d snap out of it. He could barely hold himself back from getting up again and checking on Jimmy, seeing if he was actually real and still there. But his sanity kept him from doing it, advising him not to frighten Jimmy, telling him to stay away from that room and not making old mistakes again. He listened to it and swallowed the shame that always came with the memory of the night he had assaulted Jimmy all those years ago. He shoved the undesired memory away and stood up to look out of the window, searching for the moon that hid behind heavy rainclouds like he had done it nearly every evening for months. His heart reminded him that this time, he might actually be the only one looking at it, because Jimmy was propably sleeping peacefully already. He smiled at that thought even though it also scared him. He had wished so much to see Jimmy that now he was scared. He was scared of his feelings trying to overwhelm him. When they had embraced, Thomas had understood what he had been trying to deny all those last months. He was still madly in love with Jimmy. Maybe even worse than ever before because this time, he actually knew Jimmy. Or at least it felt like he did. And he was still convinced that it was an unrequited love that would forever only hurt and eat him up. He tried not to listen to the whisper of his heart saying that Jimmy propably felt something other for him than just friendship. Tried to disregard all proof of that – all the hints in the letters, the christmas present, Jimmy’s beaming smile at the sight of him, their hands folded into each other at the hospital, the embrace and Jimmy’s head resting on his shoulder. He told himself it was nothing, trying to protect himself. But still he smiled with a hammering heart. The hope inside him could not be killed, no matter how hard he tried. And even if this hope proved itself wrong, Jimmy was still here. He was real and breathing. He left this war alive. Thomas felt like that was more than he could’ve asked for and even if he was still anxious about the coming day and whatever secret Jimmy was going to reveal to him, he was happy. Jimmy lived and they were friends. Life was good.  
  
He went back to bed and when the adrenalin inside him still wouldn’t let him sleep, he allowed himself to spend the night rereading all of Jimmy’s letters until the sun moved up on the horizon, announcing the day that would change Thomas Barrow‘s life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, I did it! I united them!  
> You cannot imagine how much I loved writing this, even though I found it hard. Moving away from the letter-format was more difficult than I thought and I needed some time to find a way around writing the character's actual behaviour. But it was great fun imagining them together again at Downton =)
> 
> How did you like their reunion? And how do you think things will go the next day?   
> I'm so excited to hear your opinions! =)


	31. Chapter thirty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy spends a day at Downton and sees what has changed and what hasn't.  
> Thomas tries not to believe in the impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing on this chapter for days and I really hope you'll like it.  
> I loved imagining Jimmy back at Downton :)

Chapter thirty-one

  
Jimmy jumped awake from the knock on his door and was out of his dreams and up on his feet within a matter of seconds. He stood in confusion for a second or two, looking at the dancing sunlight on the polished wooden floor, until his brain broke through the sleepy fog in his head and he understood that he wasn’t at war any longer. That this was his old room at Downton. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes when the knock on his door was repeated. He sat back on the bed, hid the budle of letters spread all over the bed under his pillow and said: „Come in!“  
The door was opened and Jimmy’s face lit up with a smile when Thomas stuck his head inside and wished him a good mornig. Their eyes met for a second, but then Thomas flinched when he noticed that Jimmy was wearing nothing but his briefs and he glued his eyes to the floor.  
„Sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t dressed yet. I thought I heard you get up.“  
Thomas wanted to close the door again, but Jimmy was already back upon his feet, grabbing his hand on the door and pulling him into the room.  
„Don’t be ridiculus. Nothing you haven’t seen. Well, apart from the scars.“  
He let go of Thomas‘ hand, closed the door and casually pulled an undershirt over his head.  
Thomas blinked a few times, trying to compose himself and cleared his throat.  
„Did I wake you?“  
Jimmy scratched the back of his head. „I think so, yes.“  
„I’m sorry. I wanted to let you sleep as long as you needed to but I thought I heard you call me when I walked by the room. I must’ve misheard…“  
Jimmy smirked. „No, you’re probably right. I talk in my sleep a lot.“  
Thomas frowned for a split-second before he swallowed his confusion again and got the neutral expression back on his face.  
„Do you want to get back to sleep?“  
Jimmy sat back down on the bed, pulling socks over his bare feet and shaking his head, grinning.  
„No, I’m fine. How late is it anyway? I bet I’m already late for my first day at work.“  
Thomas looked at the pocketwatch in his waistcoat and smiled.  
„Fashionably late, Kent. As usual. It’s eleven.“  
„You let me sleep until eleven? I’m so sorry. I promised to help and I will…let me just…“  
Jimmy started collecting the clothes Thomas had lent him and was already trying to get dressed, hectically slipping into the pants, when Thomas cleared his throat, the watch still in hand.  
„Don’t worry, I got everything under control. All you need to do is help me serving dinner tonight. If you still want to.“  
„Of course I do“ Jimmy smiled when his glance landed on the watch in Thomas‘ hand.  
Thomas followed his gaze and bit his lip, fumbling on the watch chain and detaching it from his waistcoat.  
„Your watch. I wanted to give it back to you. I replaced the broken glass and installed some new clockhands. It’s as good as new. Here…“  
He stretched out his hand and Jimmy took some steps closer, reaching for the watch. He tried to hold himself back, but ended up softly grabbing Thomas‘ hand with the watch in it, swallowing. „Did you carry it around this whole time?“  
Thomas cleared his throat and looked to the floor.  
„I might have. I’m sorry, I…“  
Jimmy pressed his hand before he took the watch and opened it, smiling at its new glass and the polished silver surface. „Don’t be.“  
Thomas looked up again and their eyes met while Jimmy closed his hand around his watch. „Thank you for taking care of it.“  
„You’re welcome.“  
They stood there in silence, staring into each others eyes and subconsciously moving closer when suddenly someone downstairs shouted „Mr. Barrow?“ and Thomas snapped back into reality. He immediately took a few steps back, bumping his back against the door. „You should get dressed. I let the cook prepare breakfast for you. It’s waiting in the servants room.“  
With that, he slippd out of the room as fast as he had slipped in, leaving behind a confused Jimmy with a hammering heart.   
The former soldier looked at the watch again, an affectionate smile on his lips, and started to get dressed.

Jimmy entered the downstairs servants room after brushing his teeth with the brush that Thomas had placed in his room, washing himself and fixing his hair with the pomade he had found next to the toothbrush. He found Thomas bending over a notebook on the kitchentable, discussing the dinner with the cook.  
„I know we’re still on rationing, Mr. Murphy. But Lady Mary invited her sister and her family, so we have another four mouths to feed. It’s not in my power to change that and not my fault she told me of that addition only yesterday. So do your bloody job, work your magic and make sure we’ll have enough food for everyone.“  
The cook raised his brows when he noticed Jimmy standing at the door, his hand lifted for a greeting, and snorted. „Five mouths.“  
Thomas frowned. „What?“ He followed the cook’s gaze and turned around.  
„Ah, Jimmy. There you are. Mr. Murphy, this is Mr. Kent. A soldier who risked his life for our country. He used to be our first footman in his youth and has been kind enough to volunteer helping out at tonight’s dinner.“  
Jimmy tried not to roll his eyes at the ‚risked his life for our country‘ part but smiled as Thomas winked and so he stretched his hand to introduce himself to Murphy.  
„Nice to meet you, Mr. Murphy. I’m Jimmy.“  
The cook wiped his greasy hand on his apron and shook Jimmy’s.  
„The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kent. Thank you for your sacrifices for our country.“  
Jimmy held back a laugh and just nodded when the older man finally let go of his hand after shaking it with a bit too much enthusiasm.  
„What brings you back to Downton, Mr. Kent?“  
„Mr. Barrow is a good friend of mine, so I came for a visit and stayed for helping out tonight.“  
Murphy frowned. „A good friend?“  
Jimmy noticed how Thomas tensed up next to him and didn‘t need longer than a second to identify the barely covered disgusted doubt in the cook’s voice.  
„Mr. Barrow was my mentor when I was young and the family was always very good to me. I only have fond memories of my Downton past. Especially of Thomas.“ He smiled and looked to the floor, trying not to laugh when he heard Murphy grunt and mutter something under his breath.  
Meanwhile, Thomas clenched his teeth and swallowed.  
„Enough with the smalltalk. You better get to work, Mr. Murphy. We don’t want Lady Mary to be disappointed with the dinner tonight, do we?“  
„You mind your own business, Mr. Barrow and leave the cooking to me.“  
Thomas threw him a dark, angry look and grabbed his notebook from the kitchen table.  
„I intend to.“  
He walked out of the kitchen and into the servants room.  
„Come on, Jimmy. We got a lot to do.“  
Jimmy nodded, throwing Murphy an amused grin, and followed the butler.  
Thomas slammed the servant room’s door shut behind him and sighed, letting himself fall into his rocking chair and gesturing towards the cup and plate on the table.  
„Sorry for that. Murphy is a bloody plague, but unfortunately, a great cook. Sit, have breakfast. I ordered him to make you scrambled eggs, toast and a cuppa breakfast tea.“  
Jimmy sat down in front of the plate, smiling.  
„Is there any old habit of mine you do not remember?“  
Thomas smirked. „Barely. I already put sugar in your tea.“  
The younger man loaded some scrambled eggs on the toasted brown bread, took a bite and groaned. „Fuck, this is good“, he murmured, his eyes closed.  
Thomas watched him chew and lick his lips. He swallowed when Jimmy groaned again after the second bite.  
„I was gonna ask you why you did’t fire that asshole and his attitude yet, but if everything he cooks is this good, I get it.“  
The older man nodded. „Unfortunately, it is. He’s a talented old bastard.“  
„Not better than Mrs. Patmore though.“  
„True. I hope it doesn’t bother you, that he…“  
Jimmy interrupted him with a waving gesture.  
„Couldn’t care less, Thomas. Don’t worry.“ He winked and Thomas felt like having the third cardiac arrest within less than twenty-four hours.  
Clearing his throat for the millionth useless time, Thomas got back up on his feet and smoothed down his shirt.  
„Finish up and then check the cupboard in the hallway for a fitting livery. I doubt you’ll fit your old one, but maybe one of the others will do.“  
„Did you just say I won’t fit my old livery?“ Jimmy threw a breadcrumb after him and Thomas ducked away. „Yes, because you’re way thinner than you should be. Which is why I’d prefer it if you actually ate your food instead of throwing it at me.“   
Jimmy smiled and nodded, taking a sip of his tea. „Fine by me. If I find one, should I iron it?“  
„If you still remember how to do it, I’d be glad. I still got a lot on my to do list, so…“  
Jimmy rolled his eyes. „Of course I damn well remember how to iron. Anything else I can help you with?“  
Thomas shook his head. „No, thank you. Why don’t you just go for a walk? I’d love to stay and chat but I haven’t polished the silver yet and…“  
„I can help you.“  
„No. I want you to get some rest. I’m glad you’re helping out tonight but I’m not letting you do my work. Just be back at half past five so we can start the dinner on time.“  
Jimmy couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but he nodded.  
„I’ll be back on time.“  
„Great.“ Thomas reached for the pocketwatch that was no longer there and fumbled at his empty pocket awkwardly. „Well, I better get going. See you later. Have a lovely day.“  
And with that, he was out the door.

  
After finishing his breakfast, Jimmy brought the dishes back to the kitchen, earning nothing but a suspicious look from Murphy. He checked the cupboard for liveries and found one that looked as if it could halfway suit him. It would probably be a bit loose – Thomas was right, he had lost too much weight in the last months – but it would have to do.  He ironed it and wondered how normal it felt after all this years. It was as if he’d never been gone. His hands remembered the right movements all on their own and since he was right-handed, his shivering left didn’t bother him. While ironing, he wondered if Thomas didn’t want him upstairs more than neccessary because he was afraid of the family’s reaction upon seeing him. He had to admit to himself that he had been surprised of Lady Mary’s kindness. Jimmy was a little scared of Lord Grantham’s reaction himself. Even though Thomas had told him a couple of months ago that the old man no longer seemed to care about the reason Jimmy had been fired from Downton, he doubted that Grantham didn’t remember. Catching a servant sleeping with a guest of the house was not an everyday-thing to witness. But Jimmy would just have to wait and see. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as awkward as he feared it would be. And even if it were, he had bigger worries at the moment. Like tonight.

  
During the war, Jimmy had spend most of his sleepless nights plotting his confession to Thomas in his head over and over again. He knew it had to be a fully honest one. He felt like he had to tell him the full story to actually make Thomas believe him. But there were so many important bits that he wanted to say to Thomas, he had actually started writing his planned speech down. That speech later became the first draft of his prepared goodbye-letter for the case he died without having the chance to confess his feelings to Thomas. And then it became the second draft. And the third. Writing the words seemed easy. Neccessary. Liberating. But imagining to say them out loud still made him nervous. What if Thomas wouldn’t listen? What if he wouldn’t believe him? What if he just thought of Jimmy as a friend today? What if Jimmy had misinterpreted all those little signs of affection? Would he be able to bear rejection? Jimmy swallowed and noticed he was pressing the iron down a little to harsh on the livery. He set the iron away and sighed, rubbing his eyes. He would have to take the risk, stick to the plan. If it went wrong, at least he would have had spoken his mind. He finished ironing, hung the livery on a wire and made his way back to the servants room.

  
Ten minutes later, Jimmy found himself trying to tune the piano with the tools he had found in the cupboard, dusty and forgotten. When he pressed the first key of the old instrument, he flinched. It was horribly out of tune. While he had lived at Downton, he used to take care of the tuning of this piano and the one upstairs. But since he had left, nobody seemed to have ever tuned the servant’s piano again. „You poor thing“, he mumbled while carefully readjusting the mechanics. Nearly two concentrated hours later, when he was nearly done, a voice behind his back made him flinch.  
„Do you think you can do me the favor of tuning the piano upstairs too, Mr. Kent?“  
Jimmy turned around and stood up when he recognized Lord Grantham. His hair had grown thin, his body more broad and his face was wrinkled, but he didn’t look a lot different than Jimmy remembered him.  
„Of course, Mylord.“  
„Sorry for startling you, Kent. I heard you play from upstairs and must admit that I was curious who had mercy on this poor old thing after all these years. I should have guessed it was you. It’s good to see you.“  
The lord presented his hand and Jimmy shook it.  
„Thank you sir. I hope it is alright that I tried to tune the piano. I know I should’ve asked Mr. Barrow first but I didn’t want to disturb him.“  
„It’s fine Kent, don’t worry. I am glad someone finally took care of it. Even though nobody really plays it anymore since you left, I should have hired someone to take care of this long ago.“  
Jimmy smiled. „It’s my pleasure.“  
„I heard you are our footman tonight?“  
Jimmy nodded. „If you don’t mind, of course.“  
Lord Grantham smirked. „Why would I? My daughter is the one making the decisions nowadays and I am glad someone is helping Mr. Barrow. And who would I be if I denied a brave returned soldier the humble wish to help his friend?“  
The younger man smiled. „Thank you, sir.“  
„I’m glad you came back alright, Kent. You did, didn’t you?“  
Jimmy put his trembling left hand in his pocket.  
„Yes, I was lucky.“  
„But you had been hurt badly, hadn’t you? When Mr. Barrow visited you in London?“  
„I was hurt by a German grenade, yes. But I’m fine now.“  
„A grenade? My god. That sounds horrible.“  
„It wasn’t that big of a deal, mylord.“  
„Well I doubt that. How bad was it over there? I mean…my grandson is coming back today and I have no idea what he might have been through the last months.“  
„May I speak frankly, Mylord?“  
„By all means, yes.“  
„It was a nightmare. I don’t have any other word to describe it. I’ve seen strong men fall apart in this war and until a couple of weeks ago, I wasn’t sure if I would make it back. So if your grandson made it out if this mess alive and well, you should be very proud of him.“  
Lord Grantham nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face.  
„Indeed. I understand. Thank you for your honesty. I’m sorry for the things you have been through. If there is anything we can do for you…“  
„Letting me stay last night and letting me work the dinner tonight is already more than I could have asked for, Mylord.“  
„Well I’m sure Mr. Barrow would be more than glad to have you back as his permanent footman.“  
Jimmy smiled, looking to the floor.  
„I’ll think about it, Mylord.“  
The older man nodded.  
„Good. Maybe you turn to the piano upstairs tomorrow? Lady Mary is quite nervous today and I think somebody tuning a piano would make her even more edgy.“  
„Of course.“  
„Thank you. Until dinner then.“  
The men nodded and Lord Grantham slowly climbed back up the stairs while Jimmy finished tuning the piano. Once he was done, an idea sprung to his mind and he smiled. Maybe that was the missing puzzle piece to his plan.

 

After checking his pocketwatch and smiling at its new glass again, Jimmy decided it was time for a little walk. A short look out of the window told him that the early April sun had chased away yesterday's clouds and so he went outside through the backdoor. He inhaled a first breath of the cold spring air with a smile and walked towards the way leading to the village without a destination in mind. For a good while, he strolled through the green landscape, looking at the first treeblossoms and thinking about how much he had missed seing some kind of undestructed nature without any tanks or trenches waiting behind the next corner. Then he turned around to see Downton from a distance and it took his breath away how huge the building looked from afar. Yesterday, when he had been determined to reach Downton as fast as possible and it had been pitchblack dark, he hadn't really had the chance to look at the big old house and its beautiful surrounding parks. Now he stood there, wondering if Downton had always looked this impressive or if he had just been blind in his youth. He guessed the latter must be true. He had been blind towards so many things back then.

 

Jimmy still stood there admiring the house, hands in his pockets, when someone tapped his shoulder and he jolted, turning on his heel, suddenly on full alert. But he eased immediately when he understood that it had been Phyllis Baxter – looking wrinkled and older, but still enough like he remembered her to be recognized - and his lips parted into a smile.  
„Hello, Miss Baxter!“  
She smiled at him, blinking a couple of times and then she pulled a paralized Jimmy into an unexpected hug. „Thank god you made it back, James.“  
Jimmy smiled a confused smile when she finally let go of him and wiped her eyes at the sleeves of her dress.  
„I’m sorry, I’m just very glad you came back in one piece. Did you just arrive?“  
Jimmy chuckled and shook his head.  
„Nothing to apologize, Miss Baxter. I arrived yesterday evening. Didn’t Thomas tell you?“  
Baxter shook her head. „It’s Mrs. Shaw now. I haven’t spoken to Thomas yet. I was busy getting the rooms ready and picking up the flowers for tonight.“ She lifted the basket in her hand, containing a fine assortement of pretty flowers. „He must be overwhelmed with joy to see you.“  
Jimmy smiled. „I believe congratulations are in order, Mrs. Shaw. I wish you all the best for your new marriage.“  
Baxter – no, Shaw – smiled. „Thank you, James. That’s very kind of you.“  
„It’s still Jimmy, Mrs. Shaw.“ He grinned. „Marriage suits you. You seem to haven’t aged a day.“  
Phyllis Shaw laughed and shook her head. „You’re still the same charming devil you always were, aren’t you? And still very pretty.“  
Jimmy chuckled and shrugged. „If you say so, I’m not going to deny it.“  
She chuckled, but then her expression got serious. „You weren’t leaving again already, were you?“  
„No, I wasn’t. I was just having a little walk.“  
„Good.“ She nodded solemly. „Thomas would surely be crushed if you were leaving again already. He missed you very much, you know that?“  
„I missed him, too.“  
She looked him in the eye. „Did you?“  
He held her gaze. „I did. A lot.“  
„Does he know that?“  
Jimmy shrugged. „I have no idea.“  
She reached forward and put her hand on his right shoulder.  
„Don’t make the same mistake I made, Jimmy. I wasted too much time until it was too late.“  
„You mean Molesley?“  
She blinked, swallowed and nodded. „Yes.“  
„I’m sorry…“  
„No. No, don’t be. I’m fine. I found hapiness nevertheless. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it anymore.“ She let go of his shoulder and wiped her eyes again.  
„Do you think Thomas knows it?“ Jimmy asked.  
Shaw smiled and shook her head. „I’m afraid he’s pretty clueless. I mean he does know it, somewhere inside him. But he tries not to admit it to himself. He is scared.“  
Jimmy nodded. „How do you know?“  
She chuckled. „I’ve been Thomas‘ friend for many years, Jimmy. He showed me some of your letters. You didn’t really hide anything away in them so I had my theories. But after Anna told me about those crossed out words in one of them… I knew.“  
Jimmy swallowed and let is gaze fall to the floor.  
„I’m scared too, you know?“  
„Of what? You survived a war, Jimmy.“  
The former soldier shrugged. „Losing him ain’t any less scary than gunfire, really.“  
„You won’t lose him. Why should you?“  
„What if he doesn’t like me any longer? I mean more than a friend?“  
Shaw smiled again and shook her head. „Don’t worry, he does like you a lot. Even more than he used to, I believe. I’ve watched him the last months and the way he smiled everytime he received one of your letters and the way he cried when he thought you were dead doesn’t leave a single doubt, Jimmy. Believe me.“  
He looked up and met her gaze. „What if he won’t have me? After all I did wrong and all those years, I…“ he stroke through his hair and blinked. „I know I don’t deserve him.“  
She carefully put her hand back on his shoulder and stroke his arm.  
„Don’t worry, Jimmy. I’m sure everything is going to be alright.“  
He sighed and nodded.  
„I just hope you’re right.“  
She smiled and pointed towards the house.  
„Are you coming back with me or do you want to continue your walk?“  
Jimmy pulled the watch from his pocket and checked the time.  
„I’ll come back with you. I have to be back in an hour anyway.“  
Shaw frowned. „But Thomas will for sure be busy until after the big dinner.“  
He grinned. „As will I. I’m his footman.“  
Her eyes widened and a disbelieving laugh left her mouth. „You’re his footman?“  
Jimmy nodded, a bright smile on his face and offered his hand to take her basket.  
„I’m going to tell you how I ended up in that job again on our way back.“  
She handed the flowers to Jimmy and followed him when he started walking towards the house.

  
When Jimmy finally stood in front of the mirror of his room, looking at himself in the – somewhat too wide – livery, he felt nauseaus. His nervosity grew with every passing second and the trembling of his left hand was even worse than usual. He held it in his right hand, trying to take some deep breaths. „It’s gonna be okay. Calm down“, he told himself and grabbed his letter from beyond his pillow, stuffing it into the pocket of the livery’s trousers. He tucked on his vest one last time, stroke a lose stand of hair back and nodded. Then he left the room to go down to the kitchen.

  
Thomas was already arguing with Murphy when Jimmy entered the kitchen.  
„I don’t bloody care, Mr. Murphy. If Lady Mary wants the serving to start at six p.m. sharp, we start serving at six p.m. So you better hurry up.“  
Murphy grunted something and hectically arranged food on different plates, stirring a dark brown sauce with his other hand and throwing Thomas a look as if he wanted to kill the butler with his bare hands.   
Thomas rolled his eyes and noticed Jimmy standing next to him who was trying to swallow a laugh. „What are you so amused about?“  
He looked at the younger man and swallowed. Jimmy wearing a livery brought back many long forgotten memories and sent goosebumps down his spine.  
When Jimmy shot him a smile, Thomas felt his heart rumble in his chest and something tingle in his stomach. He tried to shake the feeling, but couldn’t. Thomas had spend the day asking himself what on earth Jimmy could want to tell him tonight and tried to prepare himself for all imaginable possibilities. Or at least for those he thought realistic. Maybe Jimmy had finally found a girl – on sickleave probably – and wanted to ask him to serve as best man. Or he had decided to leave England for good and wanted to say goodbye. Maybe he wanted to tell Thomas he was having any kind of trouble. Or – and that was what scared Thomas most – he wanted to tell Thomas that he was suffering any kind of illness that was killing him. Of course that other, positive possibility he didn’t dare to dream of had passed his mind, but he quickly disregarded it as utterly impossible and instead braced himself for something horrible to happen today. His insides were a tingling mess and he was so on edge, he was scared he might actually screw up service tonight. But he looked perfectly calm on the outside and managed to appear as if nothing in this world could shake him. At least until Jimmy winked at him again and rendered him speechless.  
„I’m not amused at all, Mr. Barrow. I’m just observing.“  
Thomas nodded, still recovering from that bloody wink and swallowed.  
„Everything alright?“ Jimmy looked at him, worried, but Thomas just made a waving gesture.  
„I have to go back upstairs and take care of the drinks for the guests. Can you take care of serving the food? We‘ll start in ten minutes.“  
Jimmy nodded. „No worries. I’ll start on time.“  
„Good.“  
Thomas turned away to leave, but Jimmy held him back with a firm grab on his upper arm. He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned a bit closer to Thomas.  
„We’ll speak after dinner, right?“  
Thomas nodded, wrestled himself out of Jimmy’s grip and fled the kitchen before he could lose his mind.

  
The dinner was a big success. The returned family members were greeted with many smiles and happy tears, the whole family was pleased to be united again and it was all laughs and gentle touches and kindness. Not even Lady Edith and Lady Mary got into a fight and Lord Grantham left the tableside-kissing of Sybil and Felix uncommented. Everyone mentioned how happy they were to see Jimmy again and how glad they were that he had returned from the war healthy. George Crawley even went so far to include him in his toast about „all the great comrades who fought and still fight across the channel“. After dinner, the family listened to the radio, hearing all about the progress the allied troops were still making and speculating when Hitler might finally surrender. But then they moved to the salon, men and women together, and changed to lighter topics again, unwilling to let the war destroy their reunion. Somebody turned on the grammophone, Lady Rose pulled her husband in for a slow dance and then Thomas and Jimmy were dismissed to „enjoy the rest of the night“.

 

They went downstairs to the servants room together. It was empty. Murphy had called it a night, Shaw had left before dinner. They were alone. Jimmy took a deep breath and turned around to face Thomas. His insides were all pins and needles. It was now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is one hell of a cliffhanger but this chapter already was way too long so I had to cut it there.  
> I'll try to hurry up not to let you hang from that cliff for too long.  
> In the meantime I'm happy to read your opinions on what might happen now :)


	32. Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy has something to confess and Thomas has something to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. That cliffhanger was a bitch-move :D  
> I really hope this chapter makes it up to you and I'm so so so keen to hear what you'll think of it.
> 
> This chapter is the heart and soul of the story and...just enjoy it. I hope.  
> WARNING: This is ten pages long (bit over 5.000 words) and...kind of sad. So...tissue warning, I guess.
> 
> NOTE: There is some mention of piano-playing in this chapter. The song I imagined to be played is "Waves from a distance" by Martin Skoog. You can find it on spotify if you like ;)

Chapter thirty-two

  
Jimmy watched Thomas open the first button of his shirt and take off his jacket and vest, hanging it over the armrest of one of the chairs. He swallowed when Thomas stretched and yawned, pulling a chair back in the attempt to sit down.  
„Fancy a smoke? Outside?“ Jimmy’s voice sounded hoarse and foreign in his own ears and apparently also in Thomas‘, since he frowned and froze in his movement.  
„Why not?“ The butler put his Jacket back on and pulled a back of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, marched over to the backdoor leading to the backyard and held it open for Jimmy. Outside, Thomas handed the younger man a cigarette, put one in his own mouth and lit both of them. They stood there smoking in silence for a couple of minutes, before Jimmy chuckled. „So that’s another point of my list checked off.“  
Thomas smiled. „This is kind of weird.“  
Jimmy frowned. „What do you mean?“  
The older man pulled on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke. „I have been imagining this day in and day out for months. And now that you are here it’s…surreal. I can barely believe I am not dreaming this.“  
„The same goes for me. But it’s real.“ He flicked the ash at the end of his cigarette and looked up to the sky. „That bloody moon is real as well. And this time I’m not staring at it on my own.“  
„No you’re not.“ Thomas smiled at him, holding his gaze for longer than a couple of seconds for the first time since Jimmy had arrived. „Can I ask you something?“  
Jimmy nodded. „Anything.“  
„Why did you come here right after getting back to England? Why the hurry?“  
Jimmy chuckled, put out his cigarette and stepped closer to him, leaning his back against the closed backdoor.  
„When I got on that boat back in France, I didn’t think about the fact that I was free now. I didn’t think about my home in London. I only thought about you. And I knew that I needed to see you as soon as I could.“  
Thomas broke their eye-contact, taking a last puff on his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. „But why?“  
Jimmy took a deep breath.  
„That’s a very long story and I’ll tell it to you. But I’ve got one more thing on my list to check off before. Let’s get back inside, okay?“  
Thomas shrugged and Jimmy opened the door.

  
Back inside, Jimmy sat down at the piano immediately.  
„I promised to play for you, didn’t I?“  
Thomas sat down on the rocking chair facing the piano, smiling.  
„You did. But I’m afraid that piano is horribly out of tune.“  
„I already took care of it.“  
Thomas raised his brows and Jimmy grinned.  
„Well I had to do something while you were preparing the dinner all on your own. I want to play something for you that I wrote when I was on sickleave in my London flat. It’s the last thing I ever wrote on my old piano and noone but me heard it until now. It’s a very slow piece, because my left hand is still…well, not useless, but not really in good shape. I apologize for any flaws in my playing.“  
„Just play already. I can’t wait to hear it.“  
Jimmy nodded, took another deep breath and shook his left hand before he stretched his fingers and lay them on the keys. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, let go of all his fears and doubts and started playing.  
When the first note vibrated through the room, goosebumps crawled up Thomas‘ spine and arms. He watched a smiling Jimmy press down the keys gently, watched him breathe and lean into the movements of his hands. Something inside his chest moved and changed as Thomas listened to the unfolding melody. A weight inside him seemed to lift and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He barely noticed them rolling down his cheeks. He was busy trying to burn the picture of Jimmy, safe and sound and looking happy right here with him on the old Downton piano, into his mind forever.

  
Meanwhile, Jimmy lost himself in the melody, missing a note here and there because his hand was always on the edge of cramping, but he focused and kept going, feeling his own heart race in his chest but thinking nothing but the melody and a begging „please understand“. After less than three minutes of a room filled with music, Jimmy’s hands stopped and the melody came to an end. He waited while the last note resonated in the air, then he opened his eyes and looked directly into Thomas‘, gathering all of his courage. He saw the tears in the older man’s eyes and the wet streams on his cheeks and his heart clenched as he finally started to speak again.  
„I wrote this for you.“  
Thomas swallowed and let out a shivering sight.  
„For me?“  
Jimmy nodded. „Only for you.“  
„It’s beautiful.“  
Jimmy smiled and stood up to sit down on the stool opposite of Thomas. They were closer now and Jimmy tried to calm his breathing because his heart already felt like it was going to jump out of his chest any moment while he watched Thomas blush and wipe his wet cheeks. „Thank you, Jimmy. I…I don’t know what to say.“  
Thomas felt confused, weirdly happy, afraid and touched at the same time. He longed to stretch his hand to touch Jimmy but instead raked his shivering hand through his own hair. His thoughts were racing in unity with his pulse and he held onto the armrest of his chair, trying to control his feelings but failing miserably.  
Jimmy saw his nervousity and smirked because he felt the same. It gave him courage to see that Thomas‘ mask of detachment had fully melted away and so he stretched his shoulders and moved to the edge of his seat. Their knees were nearly touching now.  
„You don’t need to say anything. To be honest I just want you to listen. I told you many times that there is something I needed to tell you in person. Something very personal and important.“  
Thomas nodded, a hint of worry on his features.  
Jimmy let out another shivering sight.  
„I always said this secret of mine was too big for a letter. But I put it into one.“ He pulled the letter from his pocket. „This is the latest version of my goodbye-letter to you. I wrote it in case I got killed. Because I wanted you to know about my…“ he paused, catching his breath „feelings, no matter what happened.“  
Thomas blinked in confusion and wanted to say something, but Jimmy raised his shivering hands to hold him back.  
„Please, let me finish. I wrote everything in this letter. Every tiny little detail of my story that you deserve to hear. I’m glad you never got to read it, but it also makes this a lot harder for me.“ Jimmy chuckled. „Confessing this was easier on paper. Because I want to explain to you why I have been an idiot most of my life who denied everything for too long and who was blind and foolish and unkind. But now I…you can have the letter. Read my explanations if you want to. But they’re not really important. Because there’s only one important thing I need to tell you. And as scared as I am that you will not believe me, I still hope you do.“  
Jimmy moved his chair closer to Thomas and reached forward to take the paralized Butler’s hands into this. Thomas finched as Jimmy intertwined their fingers and he felt Jimmy’s left hand shake. For a second, he tried to pull away, but Jimmy’s firm grab held him back and a soothing thrumb ran over the back of his hand, shutting his mind off and quickening his breathing. Jimmy swallowed as Thomas‘ gaze quickly wandered to their hands and back up to his eyes that looked as if the older man was desperately trying to find some kind of answer in them. He felt his stomach flutter when Thomas‘ hands finally relaxed inside his and he watched the worry slowly melt away from his features.  
„You must already know this by now, Thomas. I barely hid it in my letters, even though I tried. And I nearly told you back at the hospital.“ He let out a shivering laugh. „God, how much I wanted to tell you and…“ He swallowed.  
Thomas still seemed paralized and only slowly opened his mouth to say something, but Jimmy pressed his hands and continued speaking.  
„The truth is, Thomas, that you are more than just a friend to me. Far more than that. You are the reason I kept fighting trough the bloody nightmares of this fucking war. The reason I kept breathing when I didn’t feel like I wanted to any longer. The daydream I fled into every second I could. And even before the war, you were my favorite memory and my saddest regret. The person in my past I could never forget, because I didn’t want to.“ Jimmy took in another shaking breath and let a tear fall from his eyes when he blinked, before Thomas finally frowned and broke his silence.  
„What…Jimmy, I don’t think I understand.“ His voice was a shivering whisper.  
Jimmy held on to Thomas‘ hands as if to steady himself and swallowed.  
„I know I’ve done you wrong in the past and I know I once said that I could never be anything more than a friend. But I was a lying idiot. There is a reason I had to come here immediately. A reason why I wanted to be burried with your letters, why I crossed out so many long confessing paragraphs in my letters. It’s because I love you, Thomas. I really do. Always have. Always will. And even though I don‘t deserve you, I want to be with you if you’ll have me.“  
Thomas‘ heart seemed to stop for a second and he felt like somebody had flipped the world upside-down. He heard his own pulse race in his ears and yet, his heart felt lighter than ever before. He didn’t feel the stream of tears that was leaving his eyes and flinched again when he felt Jimmy’s soft hand wipe them away and rest on his cheek. Thomas blinked and swallowed and tried do drown out the shouting of his mind that was trying to tell him that this couldn’t be true, that this was only a dream or a misunderstanding or a very bad joke.  
Jimmy watched the older man with growing concern, felt his own heart grow heavy with fear.  
„Thomas? Is…did I do something wrong?“  
He pulled his hand from his face and wanted to let go of his hand but was held back.  
„Did you just say what I think you did?“  
Jimmy chuckled sadly. „That depends.“  
„You…if this is some kind of a joke it’s…“ Thomas shook his head and Jimmy finally pulled away from his hand, grabbing his knees.  
„I love you. For real. This is no joke. I swear upon my life, Thomas.“  
Thomas shook his head again and blinked in confusion.  
„I don’t understand, it’s…how, Jimmy? After all these years?“  
Jimmy broke eye-contact and looked down. „I know. And I’m sorry. It’s…complicated. But I knew you would ask…because you are right. I…this confession comes twenty years too late. And I want to explain.“  
Jimmy pulled his hands from Thomas‘ knees and stood up, pulling the letter from his pocket again.  
„That’s why I kept this letter. It explains everything. At least I hope it does. I understand if you don’t care or you don’t want to read it, but…here. Please read it. I beg you.“  
Thomas looked at the letter dangling in front of his eyes, hesitated a second and took it.  
„Can I read it now?“  
„Of course. Do you want me to leave you alone?“  
Thomas shook his head.  
„I don’t think so, no. Just…give me some space?“  
„Come find me at the kitchen when you’re ready to…I don’t know…talk?“  
Thomas nodded and started unfolding the letter with shiivering hands. Jimmy was already wandering restlessly through the kitchen when Thomas started reading.

**_My dearest Thomas,_ **

_I guess you might want to sit down somewhere alone reading this._

_If you ever read this letter, I did not make it back from the war._

_Please don't be too sad. I know that is a stupid thing to say, especially for me because I know how horrible it is to lose a friend. But I hate to imagine me being the reason for you to be grieving. Again. I know I've been the reason for plenty of sadness in your life and I am so, so sorry about that. I guess you thought I didn't know how you felt back in the old Downton Days but I did. I saw the look in your eyes, even when we were friends, and it made my heart ache. But instead of adressing it, I ran away from it. From you._

_I have to confess something to you, Thomas. Something I should have told you ages ago. I'm sorry I never found the courage to tell you about it while I was still alive. But I was a coward. I'm writing down these words just in case I stayed that coward until my death. Because I feel you need to know my secret. I cannot take it to the grave with me, I can't stand the thought that you'll never know about it. Even though I know it's selfish and unfair. But maybe that is just the way I am._

_The truth is that I love you, Thomas. Not as a friend, but as a man. And I have loved you for more than twenty years. I fell for you when we first met and I loved you when you kissed me and I acted like an asshole. I loved you when I treated you like shit and I loved you when we were friends. I loved you the day I left Downton and I loved you all those years we spent apart. And I'm sure I still loved you when I stopped breathing._

_I know that by now, you must be furious reading this and you have every right to be._

_I don't want to justify the way I behaved because I know that is not possible but I still need to explain myself._

_When we first met, I knew nothing about love. Yes, I'd had my nasty adventures with Anstruther but they never really meant anything. And as the naive young idiot I was, I didn't know that there was such a thing as love between men. I had been raised like most other foolish people, led to believe that two men loving each other was something unnatural. As if there could ever be something unnatural about love. So when I got to know you and very quickly started to like you for your humour, your kindness, your mischiev and your confidence, I started feeling confused. I found you extremely handsome and very quickly felt attracted to you. I didn't know what those feelings meant. I was falling for you and I know I flirted with you. Back then, flirting was a game to me and I told myself that it meant nothing. But I was lying to myself. I wanted your attention but when I got it, it scared me. I was stupid and afraid of my own feelings. I told myself that all of it was your fault because you made me feel that way and when Alfred caught you kissing me, I directed all that self-hate I felt towards you. I was so scared that somebody could find out about my feelings for you and that I would be thrown into jail or something that I told myself I had to stay away from you. I was disgusted with myself for feeling attracted to you because it was what I had been taught. I thought I had to stop from feeling that way, no matter the cost. But I never really wanted to hurt you. I never really wanted you to get thrown out of the house or arrested or anything. But when O'Brien didn't shut up, I panicked. And I know I did horrible, horrible things. And though I know that you have long forgiven me, I don't think I deserve this forgiveness. I was a horrible person and I can never erase the shame I feel for my behaviour._

_After everyone calmed down about the incident, I forced myself to stay away from you in a desperate attempft to show me and everybody else that I didn't like you or any men at all. The more drawn I felt to you, the more I tried to stay away. The kinder you were, the more disgustingly mean I was. Because I couldn't handle my feelings. Believe me when I say it was torture. I wanted to be close to you, I wanted to hear you laugh and make you smile and god I really, really wanted to know how it'd feel to kiss you again. Because the truth is, I enjoyed that kiss and have dreamed about kissing you again ever since that damn night._

_When you saved my miserable life at that funfair, I could no longer fully hold up my masquerade. I was so terribly ashamed of myself and worried about you I had to go to you and a part of my heart screamed that I should tell you how I felt but again, I lacked the courage. So I made myself believe that I only missed you as a friend and the sadness in your eyes when I said that I could never be what you wanted me to be broke my fucking heart. I never felt more ashamed in my whole life than at this very day when I promised to be your friend while I wanted to be so much more. Seeing you hurt because of me...I hated myself so much. The truth is, I still hate myself for it while writing this. If I could go back in time, I'd kick my younger self in the balls and tell you I love you. But I can't and I'm sorry._

_Things got better when we were friends again. It was good having you back in my life but I was still afraid to feel too much so I forced myself into believing I liked Ivy while I never really did._

_And then I thought maybe a little fooling around with Anstruther could get me back on track and eradicate my love for you and that was the biggest mistake of my life._

_I cannot believe I even had you help me to get into bed with her while deep down I knew I was hurting you._

_Again, I am sorry for the hurt I caused._

_When I got thrown out of Downton, I was devastated. But I again told myself it was a good thing because it meant I could get away from you and my feelings. In truth, I felt like someone was ripping my heart out of my chest._

_And when we said goodbye...I nearly told you everything. But I didn't. Me telling you that we have been friends and that I was sad to see the back of you and that I wished you hapiness…apologizing for the things I did was my way of telling you I loved you. I know now that wasn't enough. I remember our conversation as if it took place yesterday because I replayed it in my head a million times the months and years afterwards, imagining how things might have been different had I said what I actually wanted to say._

_I went to London after leaving Downton and I tried not to write you but I couldn't stop myself. Not knowing how you were drove me insane. And I was incredibly lonely all by myself in that big city, full of conflicted feelings and thoughts and without any idea what I wanted to do with my life. So I started working as a barman at a pub and got wasted at the end of every single shift. I tried to drown my heartache in ale and liquor and I believe I would have ended in a bad downward spiral after you stopped replying to my letters if it hadn't been for the band. My bandmates discovered me one night when I was drunkenly playing the piano at the pub right before closing and singing out of tune. I don't know why, but they liked the way I played and took me under their wing. They told me they were gay that very night, and drunk as I was and after having been friends with you, I decided I didn't care. And I didn't. I never judged them the way I judged myself because it was impossible not to like them. Alan and George were beaming with love for each other and at the beginning I occasionally mocked them for it but out of nothing but envy. We became friends and with every day that passed and that I spend seeing the way they deeply cared for each other and enjoyed their life, I started to question my ideas about finding love between two men wrong. It took me another couple of months until I finally understood that there is nothing wrong with that kind of love and another few years until I admitted to myself that I loved you._

_It was my bandmate Alan who finally made me confess it out loud after spending years watching me tell stories about my Downton days while staring longingly into the distance. I remember our whiskey-fueled conversation clear as day._

_Alan asked me why I never stuck with a girl longer than a night and said "It doesn't suit you. You are a romantic." (For a fact, I am) And I tried to joke about it but he kept poking, asking me if I ever actually loved someone and I stuttered something about "a long time ago, maybe I did"._

_It didn't take him long to guess that it had been someone from my Downton past and that it had been you who I had been constantly talking about. I was always "My old mate Thomas once did this" and "Thomas once said that" so it wasn't very hard to guess but I still blushed like a girl and panicked when Alan went "You love that Thomas fellow, don't you?". I tried to deny it but Alan forced me to keep drinking and finally made me confess "maybe I did feel something for him, yes."_

_I then told Alan the full story and got what I deserved. A punch in the face. But afterwards, he was very kind to me, telling me that before he got together with George, he had been scared of his attraction towards men as well._

_I felt incredibly relieved and stopped fighting against my heart after all those wasted years._

_From then on, all of my bandmates tried to convince me to start writing you again, but guess what? I didn't have the courage. Again. I thougt that you were better off without me, that you had probably forgotten me or finally saw me for the bad person I was. I wrote many, many letters to you which I never posted at that time._

_I was afraid to be rejected or even worse, to hurt you again. So I decided to keep on trying to forget you and leave the past in the past._

_As if I could ever stop loving you._

_My bandmates then tried to help me get over you. They were convinced I should not be alone any longer and tried to pair me up with plenty of fine women for more than a night but they never succeeded. So one day, George (Alan's partner) came up to me and said "There is somebody out there for you, Jimmy. And maybe you should finally admit that someone might not be a girl." So I admitted it and I went out with men and some of them were great and I even came to like one in particular but it didn't work out. I did not fall in love again. Maybe because my heart still wasn't free.  
_ __  
So I went on with my life and played the piano and I liked my life the way it was. Sometimes I felt like something was missing but I told myself that feeling would pass one day. Of course it didn’t and I was never as happy as I could have been but I lived a good life and I am thankful for it. I was too gutless to give romantic love a try but at least I found the love of friendship so I settled into this life and maybe it would have stayed that way until I died of any natural cause like a heartattack or too much alcohol or age.

_But then the Nazis killed my friends and I lost everything I had with the blink of an eye and in my loneliness, I lost myself. The days after the Blitz were the darkest days of my life and I barely remember anything about them apart from being drunk and destroying a lot of the furniture in my flat. Once I understood that I had to stop drinking if I didn’t want to die, I sobered up and volunteered for the army in a blind wish to avenge my friends. But my plan to get to France or Belgium or anywhere to kill as many Germans as possible failed. After being trained, I got stationed in London and wallowed in self-pitty and hatred and numbness and booze for years before I finally got send to the frontline. It was after a couple of weeks that I – away from all the booze and secret gambling and possibilities to keep my mind busy – finally understood how very alone I was. And how very sad. And with all the stuffed away memories of my bandmates came the memories of you and the old feelings that had never truly been gone for good anyway. After weeks of fighting with myself I finally found myself writing you and out of the blunt courage the fear of possible near death gives people I actually posted it. You know the rest of the story._

_The only thing you don’t know is that when you replied to me and sounded so very much like the man I had fallen for such a long time ago, I promised myself that I would tell you everything as soon as I got back from the war, even though I still feared I would be rejected and that I wasn‘t good enough. And then I fell deeper and deeper in love with you with every single one of your letters and even though I was at war and so many miles away from you, I was kind of happy. I prayed that you would read between the lines of my words and understand my unspoken love for you because I did not want to confess it before I could be sure that I was going to stay alive. But after all that had happened between us in the past, of course you didn’t read my love between the lines (or did you…I guess I will never know now) and I don’t blame you for it._

_Then one of my favorite comrades died after telling me that he wanted to tell a girl at home who had been his best friend since they had been kids that he loved her when he got home. I panicked and started writing the first version of this very letter. Because I could not stand thinking that you would never know how much you have been loved by me if I died before I could tell you. I wrote it down in the very letter they send to you when I got injured. Part of me wishes you had read that letter but another part is glad you didn’t because I actually plan to tell you in person. Of course if you read this, I never got the chance. Anyway. this letter is the second version of it. It’s way more blunt than the first one. Because when you visited me at the hospital and held my hand – and I never told you that but I kind of felt your presence when I was unconscious – I was finally sure that my love was true and never to be shaken again. I wanted to tell you I loved you back then, but I held myself back because I didn’t want to leave you with that confession in that situation. I wanted to confess it to you after the war when there was a chance to be with you afterwards if you’d even have me after all the mistakes I had made. I was afraid that as much as my feelings for you were stronger than ever, yours might have grown cold after all those years._

_Until that very day at the hospital when I finally fell in love with you beyond recovery. The moment I met your eyes for the first time in 18 years, I knew I maybe stood a chance. Maybe I was wrong and you don’t feel anything for me but there was something in your eyes, a glimmer, that made my heart bounce with hope in my chest. And I want to thank you for that. Your time with me and your letters afterwards made me feel loved and that’s all a man can hope for in life._

_I’m writing this hours after I got back to France just as an insurance if I should be stupid enough to get killed this time around.If you read this, I’m sorry I did. I really am. And as much as I actually hope that you do love me too…if I died I hope you don’t. Because I do not want you to suffer. I want you to be happy._

_So please Thomas, whatever you are feeling now, promise on my grave that you will try to live your life to the fullest. Allow yourself to try and seek love. If I can’t be the one to love you, somebody else has to do it. Because you have to be loved. You are a great man. Greater than somebody like me would have ever deserved. And you are still bloody handsome and had I gotten the chance, I would have ripped the clothes from your body and kissed every damn inch of your beautiful pale skin._

_Thank you for everything you ever did for me. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, even without a happy ever after._

_I will love you forever and a day, wherever I might have gone from here (probably hell, let’s be honest) and I swear I’ll come haunt you if you do anything stupid because of stupid me being dead. I hope you find some hapiness. I really do. And I’m sad that I couldn’t be the one to make you happy and finally cast all of the shadows above your head away._

_Take care of yourself and stay who you are._

_Forever yours._  
_With all my love_  
**_Jimmy_**  
  
_P.S: I left all of my belongings and my remaining money to you. Please use it to travel and maybe think of me when you look at the moon from different places around the world. And remember that I loved you with all my heart. If you fall for someone again, chose a man who deserves you and takes less than twenty years to understand how much he loves you. Choose hapiness. I know you can._

Jimmy flinched when he heard steps coming from the servants room towards the kitchen and stopped his restless wandering. He froze when Thomas appeared in the doorway, his cheeks wet and a budle of pages clunched inside his shivering hands.  
„Is it true?“, he asked, his voice a barely audible whisper.  
Jimmy nodded. „All of it.“  
Thomas  stepped closer, put the wrinkled closely-written pages on the kitchentable and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  
Jimmy anxiously watched him, half expexting to get punched in the face.  
But then Thomas‘ lips twitched into a small smile.  
„You didn’t die.“  
Thomas was now only inches away from Jimmy’s face.  
Jimmy felt his choppy breath touch his lips and took a deep breath.  
„I didn’t.“  
„But you love me.“  
„I do.“  
Thomas closed his eyes leaning forward and let his forehead rest against Jimmy’s.  
„Good. Because I love you too, you idiot.“  
And with that, Thomas closed the little gap between them, landing his lips on Jimmy’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE I DID IT! (This is not the end by the way, but we're nearing it)  
> I have to admit I have been writing on that bloody letter for MONTHS so I hope it was any good ^^
> 
> How did you like the chapter? Is it what you hoped for? I hope this made you happy.  
> And I promise I got a little more in store for those two. I guess it will be two or three more chapters until this is concluded.


	33. Chapter thrirts-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Jimmy explore the nature of their newly confessed love.
> 
> W: SMUT AND CUDDLES AND LOTS OF LOVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent more time writing this chapter than any other one in this story. I'm just so baaaad at writing smut but I also reaaally wanted to include some so I hope you'll enjoy it.  
> I hope you all had a great Christmas (if you celebrate). This was originally planned as a Christmas-treat for all of you but then I was so busy baking and making chocolate-candies and writing cards and drinking "Glühwein" (seriously the best Christmas drink) and buying presents and celebrating with the family...  
> But now I have a little holiday from work until the beginning of january and I FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER. Hallelujah!
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

Chapter thirty-three

  
Jimmy flinched a little when Thomas‘ lips barely brushed against his own. He had been prepared for anger, maybe even a fight. The kiss came abrubtly and Jimmy was taken aback. A jolt went through his whole body and he blinked when he saw Thomas looking at him with a mixture of doubt and hesistance. Thomas seemed insecure again and opened his mouth to speak, to most likely apologize. So Jimmy just lifted his hand and put his finger on the other man’s lips. Thomas immediately froze and Jimmy let his hand wander to Thomas‘ cheek, feeling him lean into the touch. He breathed in Thomas‘ scent and gently brough his other hand up to pull carefully at his neck, bringing him a little closer until there wasn’t enough space for a piece of paper between them. Although Thomas seemed to slowly relax under Jimmy’s gentle touches, Jimmy could sense his inscecurity. He tried to force himself to wait a little, to give Thomas time to process the situation. To allow him to make the first step. But Jimmy had waited too long already. Thomas‘ lips just milimeters away made it impossible for him to think. Impossible to wait. So Jimmy leaned his head a little to the side and foreward, breathing against Thomas‘ lips that were nearly touching his now. And there, he held himself back. He waited. A second. Two. Until Thomas finally regained his courage and kissed him.

Something inside Jimmy changed when Thomas' lips finally properly landed on his. The burning emptiness that had been with him all his life suddenly dissapeared and was replaced by a comfortable warmth floating all through his shivering body. Although his eyes were closed, he felt as if he had been woken up. The tingling sensation in his heart and stomach grew and his eyes turned wet behind his eyelids. Something inside him that had always been abandoned and stuffed away came to life and made him grab the older man's neck tighter and pull him closer. Thomas' lips felt as soft and smooth as he had remembered them - better than in every daydream he'd had in all these years - and his body against his own sent shivers down his spine. His other hand wandered to Thomas' shoulder and held onto it like Jimmy was drowning and clinging to him. He changed his head's angle, gently yet hungrily kissing Thomas and trying to lay everything into that kiss that had been hidden away inside him for so many years.

Thomas' mind went blank the second they kissed. Every doubt, every fear and every insecurity was briefly wiped away and replaced by nothing but longing. Jimmy's lips on his own felt so perfect, his heart seemed to nearly jump out of his chest. For a second he felt light-headed and his legs were shaky, but when he let his hands wander up Jimmy's back, feeling his warm body pressed against his own, his courage grew. The weight on his chest was finally lifted and his mouth, still kissing Jimmy passionately, twitched into a smile. Thomas didn't mind the tears that streamed down his own cheeks. He didn't care that Jimmy's tight grip on his shoulder would most likely be leaving a bruise. All he cared for was this very moment. This delicate mouth against his own, this desired body leaning into him and holding onto him. His hands wandered further up Jimmy's back, landing at his neck and pulling him even closer, leaving no more space between them, no more misunderstandings. He held back a moan when Jimmy's tongue pushed against his own and Thomas reached up with one of his hands to stroke his slightly wet cheek. He lost himself in the moment and all of him wanted it to last forever.

They kissed until they both were breathless and dizzy. Thomas took a step back, grabbing the backrest of the chair next to him not to lose his balance and Jimmy laughed a little at watching him sway. He gently put his hands on Thomas‘ shoulders, steadying him and shook his head, his cheeks still slightly wet and blushed. Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out and Jimmy just nodded, understanding. He watched Thomas swallow and blink and saw a little tear escape the corner of his eye. Raising his shivering left hand to his face, Jimmy gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, stroking his cheek and leaning closer until their foreheads touched again. He smiled and closed his eyes.  
„We should probably head upstairs.“  
„We should.“

They ended up in Thomas’s room where Jimmy let himself fall into a chair and watched Thomas stuff a mountain of closely-written pages from his bed into a wooden case next to his desk. One oft he pages escaped his grip and landed on the floor. Jimmy picked it up, recognized his own handwriting and smirked. „Did you reread them?“  
Thomas nodded. „Last night. Couldn’t really sleep.“  
„But you still were clueless?“  
Thomas shrugged, sitting down in his bed because he still felt a tad dizzy and reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand. Offering one to Jimmy, he stroke his hand through his messed up hair and sighed. „I didn’t dare to hope.“  
Jimmy accepted the offered cigarette and held on to Thomas‘ hand when he wanted to pull it away again. „I’m so sorry, Thomas.“  
The older man shook his head, chuckling.  
„What for?“  
Jimmy took a deep breath and let Thomas light the cigarette dangling from his mouth.  
„You want me to answer that chronologically or alphabetically?“  
Thomas lit their cigarettes, pulled away from Jimmy’s grip and took a puff from his own, scratching his eyebrows with the back of his hand.  
„I understand it, Jimmy. I do. It’s…had I been you, I maybe wouldn’t have behaved any different…“  
„So I guess you’re not too mad with me?“  
Thomas chuckled. „Of course I am mad with you. But I also am…“ He paused and took a puff from his cigarette. „Too happy to care right now.“  
Jimmy stood up from his stool and nodded towards the empty space next to Thomas on his bed.  
„May I?“  
Thomas swallowed and nodded.  
„Of course.“  
Jimmy sat down next to him, their shoulders touching.  
„You were never ashamed of what you are. I was a coward most of my life. You wouldn’t have wasted all those years away. You knew what you wanted way before I did.“  
Thomas chuckled. „You forget that when I met you, I was already used to being an outsider. I grew up an outsider, I lived as one and it no longer scared me. You were young and handsome and everybody liked you. Only natural to be scared of people judging you.“  
„It…I wasn’t only scared.“  
„You were disgusted.“  
Jimmy looked to the floor.  
„Still hate myself for it. Every day. It’s…I wish I had your courage back then.“  
Thomas chuckled again, gently nudging Jimmy’s shoulder.  
„Courage? Me?“  
„You always accepted who you are. You never doubted yourself.“  
Thomas swallowed, put his cigarette out in the ashtray on his nightstand and pulled up one of his sleeves.  
„I hated myself, Jimmy. For many years. I was just as cowardly as you. That’s why I did this.“ He showed his wrists to Jimmy and the younger man swallowed.  
Putting his barely smoked cigarette out and taking Thomas‘ hands in his, he slowly let his fingers wander over the nearly faded white scars on his wrists. Jimmy felt a lump build in his throat and blinked.  
„But why did you do it? You said you were in a dark place, but…what had happened?“  
Thomas shook his head and grabbed Jimmy’s hand, holding it.  
„What does it matter now? It’s in the past. I was a different man back then. I only wanted to explain that you are not the only one who took a while to accept who he is. All of us do. Everybody tells us that we’re wrong. They don’t accept our kind of love. It takes a while to understand they’re wrong and we are right. I’m glad you did eventually.“  
Thomas bit his lip and smiled. Shaking his head as if still in disbelief. But Jimmy wasn’t ready to drop the subject yet. The guild he had felt most of his life lingered heavy inside him and begged to be dealt with.  
„But what I did to you…I nearly had you imprisoned.“  
Thomas‘ smile faded and he looked to the floor.  
„I assaulted you, Jimmy. I had no right to do what I did. Even if you had been willing to kiss me back then, it wasn’t right to approach you in your sleep. I scared you and it was entirely my fault. Your reaction was far from perfect, yes, but I did it to myself and you had every right to be angry with me.“ Thomas sighed, looking at their entwined hands, the smile returning to his face. „I guess we’ve both made mistakes.“  
Jimmy returned his smile and chuckled. „I guess we’re even then.“  
„Maybe.“ Thomas let his thumb wander over the back of Jimmy’s hand and sighed.  
„I’m still scared to wake up from this dream and for you to be gone from my life again.“  
Jimmy let go of Thomas‘ hands and grabbed his shoulders, turning him so they could look each other in the eyes. „This is not a dream, Thomas. I am real. This is real.“  
„I would have never guessed this could ever happen. I hoped it would, yes. But I thought I was just making a fool of myself. I just…I had no idea.“  
„Not the slightest? I mean did you even read my letters? I felt like every single word was shouting ‚I love you‘ way too loud.“  
Thomas bit his lip. „Can you say that again?“  
„What?“  
„The bit about you loving me?“  
Jimmy grinned. „With pleasure.“ He put his hand on Thomas cheek, lingering there. „I love you, Thomas.“  
Thomas swallowed and smiled a shaky smile.  
„I’m trying to believe it. It’s just…I’m so glad you’re back from this fucking war and you are alive and well and…you love me. I didn’t expect any of this and I’m still confused, I guess. It’s a bit much to take in within less than 24 hours.“  
„You didn’t seem that confused when you kissed me.“  
Thomas lips twitched. „There wasn’t really any space for doubt between us, was there?“  
„So why should there be any now?“  
Jimmy gently kissed Thomas again, grinning against his lips when that earned him a little moan.

Within minutes, Jimmy was lying on top of Thomas on his bed, letting his lips and tongue wander from his mouth to his neck and his ear, forcing the other man to hiss and bite his lip. Thomas felt his heart racing in his chest and himself turning hard under Jimmy’s touches. He tried to even his breathing, tried to frame the picture of Jimmy on top of him in his mind forever. Everything inside him seemed to be exploding with happiness and desire. He grinned a little when he felt something hard press against his tigh and let his hands wander from Jimmy’s messed-up hair to his ass, squeezing it gently. This time it was Jimmy who had to hold back a moan. He quickly pulled away from Thomas, sprang to his feet and locked the door.  
„Call me paranoid but I’d rather not have Lady Mary or his Lordship walk in on us.“  
„Nobody ever comes up here anymore. Plus they most likely all are drunk and asleep by now.“  
Jimmy grinned, unbottoned his shirt, threw it to the floor and hectically pulled his undershirt over his head. „Good. They better sleep tight because I want to do things to you…“  
Thomas just stared at him, his mouth open.  
„What is it?“ Jimmy looked down his own body and frowned. „I know I’m covered in ugly scars. We can turn the light off.“  
Thomas shook his head, rolling his eyes. „You’re fucking perfect. Now come back here.“  
Jimmy got back to the bed, willing to kneel over Thomas again, but the other man grabbed him, threw him to the mattress and reversed their positions. Now it was Thomas on top. He watched as Jimmy unbuttoned his shirt now and let him pull his undershirt over his head. Jimmy touched his bare chest, letting his fingers stroke through Thomas‘ thin grey chest-hair. Jimmy wanted to touch every inch of Thomas‘ body. Now and forever. Every piece of fabric between them felt too much. Every centimeter between their bodies too far. Jimmy had never desired another person as much as he desired Thomas now. With a racing pulse and heated cheeks, he took in a sharp breath when Thomas leaned down to plant a series of kisses on a path between his neck and his collarbone while his hand gently massaged his hard-on. Thomas stopped in his movement when he noticed Jimmy’s hiss.  
„You’re sure you want to do this?“  
Jimmy let out a dry laugh. „Doesn’t my body tell you how much I bloody want it?“  
He gestured towards the visible bulge of his pants and Thomas chuckled.  
„I mean we can take it slow if you want. It’s no shame being new to…“  
„I’ve been with men before, Thomas. Spare me the virgin speech and just…“  
He pulled Thomas down by his shoulders to whisper into his ear. „I want to feel you inside of me. We‘ve waited long enough.“  
Their eyes met and Jimmy saw a sparkle light up in Thomas‘ eyes before their lips met again and Jimmy felt his pants being pulled down.

Less than a minute later, Jimmy had freed Thomas from his last pieces of clothing and both men were naked, touching every single inch of bare skin they could reach, kissing each other passionately and gently yet hungrily discovering each other’s bodies with their eyes and hands. They took their time – even though Jimmy was still eager to feel Thomas inside him as soon as possible – suppressing each others moans of pleasure with passionate kisses and changing positions more than once. Their mouths and hands wandered over each other’s bodies, preparing each other until they finally became one, rocking the squeking old bed, their hectic breathing in sync. Shortly before Jimmy felt he would come he reversed their positions again, letting Thomas‘ slide out of him and thrust into him now. Their moans stayed quiet but could no longer be suppressed. Their hands found each other, holding onto each other when they both finally came and Jimmy collapsed on Thomas under him.

They stayed like that until Jimmy found the strenght to roll off Thomas’s body, lying down next to him. „That was….“ He couldn’t quiet find the words.  
„Yes, it was…Hand me the cigarettes, please.“  
Jimmy pulled two cigarettes from the package and lit hem, handing one to Thomas and snuggling into his arms. He took a puff and sighed. „I can’t believe we didn’t do this earlier.“  
Thomas chuckled, a small yet slightly sad smile on his lips.  
„I can’t put into words how glad I am that you came back from this war…Had you died and left me with nothing but that letter. I don’t know what I would have done. How I would have gone on…“  
Jimmy saw tears gather in Thomas’s eyes and grabbed hid head with both his hands. „But I am here now. And I’m not going back. I survived, Thomas. Thanks to you. I would never have made it without you…“  
Thomas lifted his hand to lay it over Jimmy’s shivering injured left one that still rested on his cheek. „I love you, Jimmy. More than anything.“  
„I love you too.“ Jimmy swallowed and blinked but then grinned, willing to disperse the sentimentality haning in the air. „To be honest I love you even more than…“ he checked the pocket-watch on the nightstand „fourty minutes ago.“  
Thomas laughed and nodded, pulling on his cigarette.  
He pulled Jimmy closer, throwing the blanket that had landed on the floor over both their sweaty bodies. „You know I’ll never be able to let you go now, right?“  
Jimmy smiled, wrapping his arm around Thomas‘ upper body.  
„I wouldn’t allow you to get rid of me.“  
He looked up and saw Thomas‘ smile fade slowly.  
„Seriously, Jimmy, what do we do now? What is…this?“  
Jimmy gently stroke a stand of hair from Thomas’s frowning forehead.  
„I told you I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.“  
Thomas squeezed him, taking another puff from his cigarette.  
„It’s still forbidden.“  
„I don’t care. It won’t be easy, I’ll admit that. But behind closed doors, we can be together.“  
„Are you planning on going back to London?“  
„No. I thought about building a business. Renovating, tuning and selling old pianos.“  
„London would be a great place for that.“  
„But it’s a two-hour-trainride away.“  
„And?“  
„That’s too far away from Downton. And I know you want to stay here.“  
Thomas sighed. „I won’t stay here forever, but for the time being…“  
„I understand that. Downton is your home. And you are mine. So whereever you are, I’ll be. If you let me.“  
Thomas swallowed and kissed Jimmy on his forehead.  
„Wow. I…don’t know what to say. It’s your decision and I would be glad to have you around. You can always come back and be my footman.“ He chuckled and Jimmy rolled his eyes. „No thank you. I believe my days under your thumb are behind me for good.“  
Thomas laughed. „Can I help you with anything else?“  
„Don’t you dare offering me money. I’ll get myself a job at a local pub or something until I have enough money for the piano business. People won’t care for their pianos until the end of the war anyway.“  
„We could ask Anna if she knows someone searching for help.“  
„That’d be great.“  
„You know the house I own…it has two flats. And I only rented one.“  
„You don’t happen to be searching for a secod tennant, do you?“  
„That depends on what the tennant has to offer.“  
„Are his heart and a rent always payed on time probably enough?“  
Thomas leaned down to kiss him gently and stroke his cheek.  
„More than enough.“  
They kissed and snuggled until they both finally fell asleep, a smile on both their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo. How did you like it? I know it's a bit cheesy but...I just couldn't hold myself back after all the build-up and slowburn ^^
> 
> This has not yet been the last chapter, but we're nearing the end pretty fast.  
> I already know I will dearly miss writing this story. I had a blast writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> How did you like it?


End file.
